


You'll Never Stop Running

by Heizpilz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Alternate viewpoints Derek/Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Derek and Stiles are the Same Age, High School AU, M/M, No Fluff, No Smut, No really: Kate Argent Warning, Warning: Kate Argent, because Peter's not crazy yet, no one gets bitten, the Hales are still alive, well he's always been a little off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-04-08 04:12:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 87,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14096931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heizpilz/pseuds/Heizpilz
Summary: Stiles blames Mr. Harris really. He’s the one making them do this – over and over again. As time goes by, Stiles has to admit he doesn’t mind it too much… possibly, maybe.Meanwhile Derek never cared in the first place. He has other problems, problems he needs to keep secret. Story of his life.For Stiles, however, secrets are simply there to be uncovered.Or: Derek and Stiles are lab partners. A High School AU without the cute.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I always wanted to write a High School AU but this doesn’t contain much cute or funny or anything else normally associated with this particular trope.  
> Instead it has all the angst and is more about how things might have gone if Stiles had been in Derek's life much earlier, bearing in mind that Stiles is neither omniscient nor omnipotent.  
> Please heed the tags.  
> Slowish updates, too. Sorry about that.

 

 

**1**

 

About five minutes into third period Stiles has already had enough of school and it’s only the first day back after the winter break.

It started out well enough. Okay, so Lydia Martin ignored him when he told her that the break only made her more beautiful, walked right past him in fact, as if he hadn’t spoken, but she also didn’t spit in his eye or anything, so that’s totally a win. Right? At least Scott is his usual self, apart from his insistence that he’s actually going to be playing lacrosse this year instead of warming the bench. Yeah, like _that’s_ within the realms of possibility.

But it’s kind of cool to be back at school. Stiles doesn’t like it per se but he can acknowledge that the structure it gives to his day helps and no doubt his dad’s glad to get him out of the house. If he utilizes sitting in class to think about interesting things, it’s not so bad... until they have Chemistry with the one and only Mr. Adrian Harris. So maybe Stiles had a slight run-in with the man before the vacation started. He may have shown off a bit when Harris made a mistake in one of the formulas he put on the board. And Harris isn’t the forgive-and-forget type. No, in that respect he and Stiles are very much alike: forget forgiving and stick with resent-and-remember.

Things don’t bode well when the first thing Harris does is separate Scott and Stiles before they even have a chance to sit down. Is it really necessary to banish Stiles to the very back of the class? Scott seems dismayed as well and he didn’t do anything to Harris, so no fair. But then this new girl, called Allison something, gets to sit in the seat Stiles had no chance to plant his ass on and suddenly Scott doesn’t seem to mind so much, the traitor.

Stiles soon finds solace in doodling in his workbook. He’s sure that by the end of the year he can make it look like Snape’s potion book, full of recipes for various concoctions. It’ll be fun thinking up outlandish ingredients and bizarre procedures on how to prepare them. At least it should pass the time because Harris said he can’t return to his spot next to Scott for the remainder of the year. Stiles must read the school regulations to find out if the statutes actually give teachers the right to decree something like that. Sounds like cruel and unusual punishment to him.

But then when they’re doing experiments and have to choose a lab partner, it jumps all the way to hell, not even bothering with a hand basket. Stiles isn’t naive enough to expect to team up with Scott today and Scott just gives him one apologetic glance before happily choosing to work with Allison. It leaves Stiles in a bit of a bind because he and Scott don’t have any other friends, so no one’s rushing to his side. He doesn’t really like approaching people in case they shoot him down which happens with embarrassing regularity. He’s not exactly Mr. Popular.

The only person making any kind of eye contact with him is Erica but she’s too shy to keep it up or come anywhere near him of her own accord. He finally decides to go over and ask her because she’s not so bad and he’s used to doing the bulk of the work anyway. He has to whenever he works with Scott if he wants semi-decent grades. But then Harris calls his name from the front and everybody in the room falls silent for a moment because Stiles and Harris have been having an epic battle for a year now and it’s always fun. For others at least. For Stiles, not so much, although if he would just stop squabbling all the time, things might go back to normal. That, however, would be entirely contrary to his nature.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Harris says in that mocking tone he saves exclusively for Stiles. “I would like you to team up with Mr. Hale. I think you two would make an excellent pair. So let’s make you partners for the rest of the year.”

“The rest of the year,” Stiles repeats flatly. Oh, fuck his life. A whole year without Scott? Why would anyone do that? “You mean the rest of the _school_ year? The _whole_ year? As in: until the summer? You want me and Derek to be partners for the whole of our sophomore year? All of it? You meant the _month_ , right?”

Harris is grinning, clearly enjoying having the upper hand for now. “No, Mr. Stilinski, I want you and Mr. Hale to be partners for the _whole school year. All of it_.”

Only then does Stiles look over to Derek. This isn’t personal. He has nothing against Derek as a person. In fact, he knows nothing about him other than that he used to be on the basketball team and then his girlfriend died in a freak accident in the woods and he hasn’t strung two words together since. Even now Derek simply picks up his stuff and moves seats to sit next to Stiles without saying anything to either Harris or Stiles.

“My apologies, Mr. Hale,” Harris smirks, clearly not meaning a word of it. “But someone has to grasp the nettle.”

While up to this point Derek seemed completely disinterested in what’s going on, he now raises his eyebrows and gives the man such a baleful look that it almost makes this unfortunate turn of events worthwhile. Just the fact that Harris looks momentarily unsettled raises Derek a few notches in Stiles’s estimation. He can work with that… or rather with him.

Or _not_. Because Derek remains silent. It’s not as if he _can’t_ speak because Stiles also has English, Math and Physics with him and he does answer when called upon by teachers. He just doesn’t seem to think it’s necessary at any other time. Thrown a little off balance by the lack of any kind of response, Stiles gives a running commentary about the experiment they’re doing and then resorts to speaking to Derek like he does to Lydia – or rather _at_ Lydia because she has yet to favor him with addressing him outside of his dreams.

“Yes, I fully understand that you’re too superior to speak to mere mortals like me. I’ll just mix these ingredients together by myself while you’re busy looking out of the window, after I went and got them from the cupboard – also by myself – while you were busy staring at the desk and then I’ll make notes while you’re busy pondering the secrets of the universe and then I’ll go home and write up the report while you go home and be busy brooding or whatever you do when you’re not here ignoring your lab partner.”

Derek’s hand shoots out faster than Stiles can comprehend and stops him from adding an ingredient which, as Stiles is well aware, would not only destroy the experiment but also cause a nice firework. Derek’s grip on his wrist isn’t tight but it successfully prevents Stiles from moving his hand. Or his arm. Dude’s strong, he has to give him that.

“So you _are_ paying attention,” Stiles says half impressed and half disappointed that his little surprise for Harris didn’t come to fruition. With a bit of luck there might even have been enough smoke to set off the sprinklers and get them all out of this infernal class for today.

“I need a good grade,” Derek says without inflection. “Don’t fuck around.”

“Oh, it speaks. Good to know.”

“Do not refer to me as an it.”

Being now at the receiving end of Derek's menacing stare, Stiles nods hastily. “Of course. Because obviously you’re not. An _it_ , I mean. You’re very much a guy, I mean, a person. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.” Strange that a little joke like that gets Derek to speak but everybody has their own pet hates. Good to know what Derek's are in case ammunition is required at some point in the future.

Something passes over Derek's face but it comes and goes in seconds, too quick to evaluate. Then he rolls his eyes and adds the last ingredient to conclude the experiment. Unfortunately though predictably, there are no fireworks, just a color change, and even the desired one as far as Stiles knows.

In the front Greenberg achieves the disruption that was denied to Stiles, but on a much smaller scale. So sadly it’s not enough to send the class fleeing the room but then again, it’s Greenberg, what would you expect? He can’t even mess up properly. Luckily ten minutes later it’s time to go anyway.

“Remember to write up a report about the experiment at home. _Together_.” Harris seems to smile his sanctimonious smile at Stiles in particular.

Stiles sighs. It’s gonna be a long year. “I’ll do it,” he says to Derek as they’re packing up their things. “I’ll bring you a copy tomorrow.”

That’ll give Derek a chance to look it over and suggest changes before their next Chemistry lesson on Wednesday. It’s just a courtesy really, because Stiles doesn’t expect any objections. Scott never has any, but that’s because he can only benefit from someone else doing the work. Stiles doesn’t even know if Derek's a good student or not. He thinks he may have been before he turned practically mute, but since he doesn’t participate in class any longer, he could also have dropped points in his written work. Or his written work may have been for shit to begin with. Stiles doesn’t usually pay attention to jocks, unless they’re attached to Lydia.

Derek wordlessly packs his bag and leaves.

 

 

At lunch Stiles and Scott are occupied with surreptitiously watching the same table. As usual they’re sitting by themselves but their conversation is very far from typical. There’s no talk about their normal interests even though Stiles is desperate to brag about the new level he reached last night.

“She’s really nice,” Scott says with a dreamy smile on his face. “She has these dimples just here and she dips her head when she talks like she’s shy, and she smells really nice.”

“Dude, smelling people is definitely creeper territory.”

They both look over to where Lydia’s taken Allison under her wing for some unfathomable reason. Normally Lydia likes to assess other girls first, especially pretty ones, to see if they constitute a threat to her Queen Bee status – as if anyone could – but Allison seems to have taken that hurdle without even trying. Go figure.

“She’s super smart, too. Like Lydia.”

“Dude, nobody’s as smart as Lydia. She’s like genius level smart. It just seems like other people are smart to you _._ ”

Scott either doesn’t notice or ignores the thinly veiled insult and smiles at him. “Why can’t they both be super smart? ... Can you imagine us double-dating?”

Stiles snorts his drink all over the table but luckily nobody ever pays attention to him. Or they judge him without looking. “Scotty, are you feeling alright? Us dating those two is as likely as us making first line. In fact, us dating _anyone_ would be like us making first line. It’s nice to have dreams but come on.”

He makes a dismissive gesture indicating how far out of their league Lydia and Allison really are, just as Allison looks over, gives Scott a smile and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear while dipping her head. Damn, she _is_ cute… and she actually seems to like Scott, who’s blushing like crazy. Stiles pulls a face. Great, he’s going to be the only single person left in the whole damn school.

He flails back in his chair when someone drops some papers next to his tray. Looking up he’s just in time to see Derek nodding at him, already turning on his heels and walking away. “Thanks, buddy. Good talk,” Stiles yells at his retreating back once he’s recovered from the surprise, but Derek ignores him like he ignores everyone else watching him. As grand entrances and exits go, it’s not bad. Stiles isn’t sure if Derek attracts so much attention because of what happened to Paige – which to his severe annoyance remains a mystery and not for want of snooping – or because Derek clearly has an attitude or maybe because he really doesn’t seem to care about anyone’s opinion. Even his former friends no longer talk to him.

The papers turn out to be their lab report, all neatly typed out and very thorough. Stiles couldn’t have done a better job himself. “Sweet,” he murmurs under his breath.

“What is it?” Scott asks.

“This, my friend, is my reward for putting up with Mr. McGrumpy for a whole lesson and is the equivalent of one extra hour of _Guild Wars_ this evening.”

“Did he really say nothing at all to you all that time?”

“Told me not to fuck around.”

Scott grins. “I wish him luck.”

 

 

The try-outs after school take their inevitable course. Finstock makes them do suicide runs and after the weeks of inactivity and too much food over the holidays Stiles all but collapses when the allotted twenty minutes are up. Scott ends up on the verge of an asthma attack and neither one of them is in any fit state for the actual practice game after that. So far, so predictable.

However there’s one rather surprising difference to last year: Derek has turned up to join the team. He seems incredibly fit, even more so than Jackson and Danny, and doesn’t appear out of breath in any way after the suicide runs. For that, Stiles hates him on principle. How are he and Scott ever going to make first line when there are new star athletes with apparent super powers joining all the time?

But he revises his opinion to _ooh, I love him_ as soon as the game begins. Derek runs rings around the other players. Jackson in particular takes that very personally and therefore ends up more often than anyone else on the receiving end of Derek's skills. Derek makes playing lacrosse look graceful, which shouldn’t be possible. Even Lydia cheers for him, much to Jackson’s annoyance.

Naturally, Derek becomes an instant favorite with Finstock and is declared co-captain at the end of the session. Stiles isn’t so sure if that’s a good idea because Jackson doesn’t play well with others. And true enough, in the locker room Jackson talks loudly about how they should introduce random drug testing to make sure that certain people’s skills are natural rather than chemically-induced.

He stops just short of accusing Derek by name but keeps looking in his direction. Stiles can understand his reluctance to pick an outright fight. The jocks in school are all buff and toned and are the reason Stiles would never shower at school because who needs that kind of humiliation? But when Derek takes his shirt off he’s on a whole different level. His muscles have muscles and he also has more body hair, which makes him look more mature. Now that Stiles is paying attention he thinks Derek could probably grow a full beard as well if he wanted, while the rest of them still struggle with producing a scraggly fuzz. Except for maybe Danny.

The others are happy to have Derek on the team. Their chances of winning the state championship again this year have just doubled. There are one or two good-natured remarks aimed at him that he deigns to acknowledge with a nod and Danny even claps his shoulder in a _welcome to the team_ gesture as he walks out. Brave man! Derek doesn’t seem to notice and Jackson is livid for what he obviously considers a betrayal.

“He’s a great asset,” Danny says with a shrug. “Don’t know about you, but I play to win.” 

 

*******

 

Derek comes to himself when he hears Harris call his name. By the general commotion in the classroom he’s vaguely aware that it’s lab time but he lacks any interest in getting involved in pretty much anything. He’ll just wait until only one person is left to team up with. Usually that’s Erica, who’s too shy to talk to him and doesn’t mind whatever he does including writing the report. That way he’ll get a good grade and she isn’t left out.

If there’s an odd number of students he’s even happier working on his own. In the past he always teamed up with Paul or Jordan, but Paul moved to Washington over the summer and Jordan has given up trying to talk to him. Somehow it’s easier for Derek to interact with people who don’t expect him to be a friend or simply friendly or in any way like he was _before_.

Mr. Harris makes some snide remarks to Stilinski probably a continuation of their hostilities from before the break. Derek really doesn’t understand what Stilinski is hoping to gain by antagonizing his teacher constantly but he suspects it’s just in his nature. The guy doesn’t seem to have a filter, nor does he ever back down. Ah well, it’s his funeral. But when Harris addresses Derek in the same condescending tone he uses for Stilinski, Derek can’t help but glare at him. Even humans get daunted when a werewolf puts his mind to it.

He doesn’t mind working with Stilinski – Stiles, if they’re stuck with each other he should call him Stiles – one lab partner is as good as another. The chatter he can disregard like he does so many things nowadays but… _woah, not that stuff!_ He grabs Stiles’s arm, instinctively pitching his strength perfectly, light enough not to hurt or bruise but strong enough to get his point across. Okay, maybe working with this guy requires a little more attention. He knows Stiles is smart but it’s completely within the realms of possibility that he’ll do something stupid just to piss Harris off. Derek will have to keep an eye on proceedings.

During his lunch break he writes up the lab report in the library. Well, Stiles was complaining that he was doing all the work, which Derek would be happy to let him do if he could trust him not to fuck it up on purpose. So this can be considered his contribution, a perfectly written and typed report, good enough to get an A.

 

 

All he wants to do after school is go home and read in his room. But he promised to go to the stupid lacrosse try-outs so he does. A bit of exercise might do him good and he does feel pumped enough after the suicide runs to show Jackson Whittemore how it’s done. He’s never liked the guy with his casual bullying and his phony arrogance, when he permanently reeks of that bone-deep fear that has nothing to do with danger. A bit of humiliation will do him good.

His mother picks him up after practice because Laura has flat out refused to come back to school for him. He would have been happy to run home through the woods but his mother doesn’t like them doing anything that would set them apart from ordinary humans. A ten-mile hike through the woods after a full day at school _and_ lacrosse would be a little unusual he has to admit.

“How was it?” she asks when he climbs into the Land Rover.

He shrugs. “Pretty pointless. I’m co-captain.”

“How wonderful, sweetie. I knew it would help you make friends.”

He doesn’t point out that he has friends, a bunch of them, who would be happy to go back to normal if he could only stand their company. But most of them knew – and liked – Paige and he just doesn’t know how to look them in the eye after what he did. “Mom,” he says instead in that tired voice that she hates so much but he can’t seem to shake. “The _coach_ made me co-captain because I’ve superior strength and speed. That doesn’t exactly endear me to the team.”

“You promised you would try this,” she says just as tiredly.

He often wonders what it’s like when your mother is just your mother and not also your alpha. Would he still have this impulse to obey if it were only based on emotions and not on instinct as well? Or would he be just like all the other moody teenagers around him? Would he rebel? As it is he doesn’t know what to do, how to express his frustration, how to be angry, how to pull away.

“I will,” he says simply and looks out of the window for the rest of the journey. It’s not as if he had a choice. His mother asked him to do one after-school activity this year, just one, after he withdrew from all the ones he used to go to. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything he did _before_ , so he chose this ridiculous game. The whole basketball team always scoffed at the lacrosse team even though it’s the school’s chosen sport. Somehow he found it fitting to pick a game he despises.

When his mother stops the car outside their house, he stays seated because she has that air about her that says, _listen while I’ll tell what’s best for you_. He knows she loves him and that she’s worried not just about him but also about how his behavior affects the pack. That just puts more pressure on him.

“I won’t ask anything else of you for now,” she says. “I know this is hard for you but shutting yourself off is not the solution. Make an effort even if it’s only one person. That’s all I’m asking.”

She’s right, of course, he knows that. But it’s not that simple. Paige didn’t just die, he _killed_ her, and that memory plays over and over in his head. It’s not a matter of snapping out of it. He can’t stop being upset just like he can’t stop being a werewolf. Everything’s numb and nothing he does is important because nothing will undo what happened and nothing will make him feel better.

“I’ll try,” he says and means it.

 

 

After taking a shower, he withdraws to his room to read. For a while after it happened, he couldn’t concentrate enough to even do this much, but in time his ability to disappear into fictional worlds returned. He’s learned to be grateful for small mercies.

The peace lasts for about an hour until Peter appears in his doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed.

Derek doesn’t spare him a single glance. “Fuck off!”

“Oh, come on, nephew, how long are you going to keep this up?”

Derek can hear his mother clear her throat downstairs. It’s not necessary for her to say anything because Peter drops his arms and suddenly seems uncomfortable, turning his head slightly in anticipation of a reprimand. Wordlessly Derek gets up from where he’s sitting in his armchair and goes over to Peter still reading. Then he looks his uncle straight in the eye and with slow deliberateness shuts the door in his face.

Laura comes in an hour later bringing with her the smell of too many people. She has a large group of friends that keeps her busy – like he used to have. Although she knocks and waits a few moments, she enters despite his lack of an answer.

“How was practice?” she asks, placing herself on the end of his bed next to where his feet are resting on the duvet.

“The point of knocking on someone’s door is to wait for permission to enter. It defeats the purpose to walk right in.”

“If only people you invite in could enter your room, you would just stay here by yourself and never leave.”

“You’re not my alpha yet,” he says without looking up from his book. He hates that she started taking an interest in his well-being only _after_. Maybe he would eventually get back to normal if people wouldn’t treat him like he’s fragile. The two of them have been mocking each other since he was old enough to talk and it would be vastly preferable to this sad sympathy and worry everyone is giving him.

“I know,” she sighs. “So how was practice?”

“It was fine. I ran, I played lacrosse, I made the team.”

“Mom says you made co-captain.”

Derek finally looks at her. “What’s the point of asking me how it was when you already know the answer?”

“There’s more to life than bare facts.”

“If you ask me how I _feel_ about being on the team or being co-captain or anything at all, I swear I’ll turn violent.”

She smiles sadly. “Eventually you need to talk about something, Derek.”

“Maybe. But today is not that day.” He returns his attention to his reading and after a while she gets up and leaves his room. It’s amazing how her concern annoys him more than Peter’s repeated attempts at renewing their relationship. He hates both but at least Peter is easier to deal with. Laura’s short visit leaves him too unsettled to concentrate on his book.

For weeks now he’s been taking one day at a time. Mostly it’s a struggle to even get out of bed in the mornings and the day seems to stretch endlessly before him like a mountain he needs to climb. But, like Sisyphus, he always has to start over again when he wakes up and everything’s just incredibly tedious.

At night he’s grateful when he can go to bed. It’s not as if he sleeps well because he has trouble dropping off and wakes up from repetitive nightmares every night. But he’s learned to hide those and being left alone is always easier right now.

His parents keep telling him that it’ll get better, that with every passing day he’ll heal a little more but sometimes he wonders if he’ll ever get there. Hours feel like days and he doesn’t seem to improve. He just wants to curl up and lick his wounds and for the pain to be over already.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

**2**

 

Things take a turn for the weird almost immediately. Not only is Scott preoccupied with looking at Allison or talking about Allison or daydreaming about Allison _all fucking day_ , but he also meets up with her after school on Tuesday so they can ‘write up their Chemistry report together’. Yeah, like Stiles believes that’s what they’re actually doing.

It leaves him with an unexpected free evening and although it’s not like that’s unheard-of – Scott does have a job after all – he can’t help but wonder if it’s the first of many. He occupies himself with playing _Guild Wars_ with _DarkMagetheThird_ and _BoromirxAragorn_. Scott isn’t as invested in the game as Stiles is at any rate. Not even his best friend can keep up with Stiles’s capacity to obsess about his interests.

Scott gives him a run for his money though, because his attachment to Allison can’t really be described adequately by any other word. By Wednesday it’s clear that they’re a couple. Stiles is happy for them, he really is, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling that he’s third-wheeling all of a sudden. Overnight they’ve upped sticks and moved to a world that doesn’t admit other people, not even BFFs.

The most interesting fact about Allison for Stiles, if not for Scott, is that her family deals in weapons. His mind is doing overtime at the news, imagining all sorts of shady deals and shenanigans. Ordinary people just aren’t professional gun runners. Unfortunately Allison doesn’t like to talk about the family business, if she even knows anything about it.

But what really throws Stiles is when he and Scott sit down to lunch in the cafeteria and are not only joined by Allison but suddenly surrounded by a group of people who has never given them the time of day before. Stiles is sandwiched between Danny and Vanessa, neither of whom he knows much more about than their names and their expressions make it clear that they’d like to keep it that way. But opposite him, just two seats over, is Lydia and, barring accidental proximity during classes, this must be the closest they’ve ever been together for an extended period of time. He can barely talk or eat, his throat is so dry.

Scott has obviously lost his mind because he lets Jackson goad him into accepting an ‘invitation’ to go bowling. Double-date my ass! Stiles recognizes a challenge when he sees one and knowing Scott’s quite frankly abysmal bowling skills, he can see a world of humiliation in his friend’s future. But he can’t think of a way to prevent it without saying outright to Scott that he sucks and should get out while he still has a chance. Seeing the way Scott’s smiling at Allison though, he probably won’t mind as long as he can spend time with her.

Just sitting at the same table doesn’t mean anything of course. Apart from Scott and Allison no one’s talking to him and Stiles is somewhat disillusioned by the conversation anyway. It’s so _shallow_. Mostly it’s gossip or rather judgments of the lesser people at school. In a way, it’s probably a compliment to elicit a comment from this crowd because they consider most of their fellow pupils so insignificant they wouldn’t even deign to notice them. But it’s all, “Did you see what Carl’s wearing?” and “Catlin was so pretty but she’s put on so much weight over the holidays.”

Stiles looks at the people in question and really doesn’t see it. Caitlin did _not_ put on any weight, she just got some curves and even if she did, why does it matter? Most of the girls at this table could benefit from gaining a few pounds. They call that lunch? Stiles wouldn’t consider that a starter, not even for his dad. Why do people put themselves through that kind of torture voluntarily? Or not so voluntarily considering the pure vitriol of the remarks they’re exchanging, which would scare anyone away from gaining a single ounce ever. And Carl’s outfit doesn’t look much different from what he usually wears or what Stiles is wearing, for that matter. He wonders if he’s still in the ‘too lowly to be noticed’ category. He kind of hopes so.

“Did you see Hale earlier?” Jackson snorts. “He was reading _poetry_. That guy has his head so far up his ass now he can look out through his teeth.”

“Wouldn’t mind being up his ass,” Danny says grinning. “Or him up mine. I’m not fussy.”

At least two of the girls smile dreamily at the remark while Jackson pretends to gag.

“Oh get over yourself, Jackson!” Lydia says snippily. “He’s out of your league.” She doesn’t specify whether she refers to poetry, lacrosse or Derek’s ass.

Stiles snorts but tries to turn it into a badly faked cough.

Immediately Jackson shifts his attention to him. “Are you calling dibs on his ass, Stilinski? Because you’re welcome to it.”

Stiles wants to sink into the ground when all eyes turn to him in amusement but he would never let anyone know that. “I’ll let him know you said that. I’m sure he’ll get right on it when he hears that he’s got your permission.”

There’s a little awkward pause because obviously no one expected him to respond to the taunt. Then everyone – except Jackson – laughs, even Lydia and that’s the most satisfaction Stiles has ever gotten from any interaction with Jackson Whittemore. Scott stretches out his arm and they fist-bump across the table. It’s probably not the smartest thing to do if they want to get on with these people but Stiles is pretty convinced that sitting at the popular table is just a flash in the pan, so it doesn’t matter.

What’s interesting is that split second of fear Stiles saw in Jackson’s eyes when he said he’d tell Derek what he said. Stiles has met enough bullies in his life to know that they’re mostly cowards throwing their weight around so that they don’t get thrown around themselves. What he didn’t know is that Jackson – despite his vocal disapproval of Derek – fears him for some reason. And since Derek, even in his better days as one of the most popular guys in school, never used his influence to do harm to anyone let alone get physical, Jackson probably fears the competition. Stiles files the information away for later use.

 

 

“Are you coming to the party on Friday?” Allison asks him when they’re walking into English together.

Stiles snorts derisively. “I’ll let that slide because you’re new,” he says, “but in general Scott and I...” He glances over his shoulder at his best friend, who looks at him with horrified eyes and checks himself. “What I mean to say is that _I_ , _me_ , _just_ me, don’t get invited to such things.”

“But you’re both on the team,” she says.

“Well, there’s _being_ on the team as in _playing_ on the team, on the actual field, with other players and against another team also made up of players and then there are those of us who, shall we say, fulfill the _concept_ of being on the team but not the _reality._ ”

Allison blinks as if she either doesn’t understand or doesn’t know what to say and Stiles takes the opportunity to sit down. It’s not entirely unexpected that Scott waits until Allison’s taken a seat and then grabs the chair next to her. Stiles sighs and looks to his right instead to find Derek Hale sitting there with his nose in a book. He tries to inconspicuously read the title because he’s always interested in what other people are reading but as usual he’s doing a terrible job of being sly. Derek glares at him but flashes the book up for a second. Alfred Tennyson. So Jackson was right, Derek’s reading poetry. Somehow that isn’t as surprising as Jackson even knowing that Tennyson was a poet.

The class turns utterly quiet when the new teacher walks in. They all knew that Mrs. Langlands wouldn’t be returning for a few weeks because she’s having a baby, but nobody was quite prepared for a blonde bombshell. She’s reasonably dressed for the occasion in a button-down blouse and matching pants and nothing is overtly lascivious but she still exudes raw sensuality. Whoever hired her was either blind or an idiot or aiming for all the male students to be paying special attention in English this year – when they’re not slip-sliding on their own drool.

He glances at Scott, who doesn’t seem to have noticed as he’s too busy looking at Allison, who’s admittedly in a whole different league even in Stiles’s non-smitten opinion. Then he turns to Derek, who puts his book in his bag and the reading book on the desk – Franz Kafka’s _Metamorphosis_ – before looking at the teacher and... showing no reaction whatsoever. Okay, so that’s three guys who are unimpressed with the Miss California contestant posing as a teacher. Operation _let’s make all the guys hang on the English teacher’s lips this year_ is a bit of a bust.

“Hello, my name is Kate Argent and I’m your new English teacher. In the interest of full disclosure,” she smiles an amused smile before she continues, “I have to tell you that Allison _is_ my niece. But I will only be here for a few weeks so it doesn’t matter as I won’t be grading you.”

Did she just invite her class to picture her naked or did Stiles imagine that? There was definitely a pause after ‘full disclosure’ and there was a funny undertone in the way she said it. Wow, that’s not creepy at all. But when he looks around the class, half the guys are still staring at her as if they don’t need any encouragement to visualize her without her clothes on and the others are keen to make a good impression. Derek is idly leafing through the book in front of him making Stiles wonder if he’s sitting next to the only other sane guy in the room.

Ms Argent can teach, he has to admit. Mrs. Langlands was always a little long-winded and Kafka isn’t the easiest subject. Stiles found the book challenging to read because it didn’t grab his attention, so he skimmed it and read a detailed analysis instead. But he finds himself interested in the approach Ms Argent is taking, so he listens and even participates. As lessons go, it’s one of the better ones and yet there’s something a little off that he can’t put his finger on. If she’d performed a pole dance on her desk she couldn’t have given off a more alluring vibe.

When they’re packing up – she must really be gunning for ‘most popular teacher’ because there's no homework – she says casually, “Mr. Hale, if I could have a word?”

Stiles glances up at her from his seat, just catching her smile at Derek. Yep, there’s definitely something off. Then he looks at Derek, who still shows no reaction, just nods and finishes stuffing his books into his rucksack and Stiles has the strange notion that he should stick around to... do what exactly? He knows neither Derek nor Ms Argent well and what does he expect to happen? She’s a teacher speaking to her pupil. It’s not that unusual.

Some of the other guys make remarks of the _‘some guys have all the luck’_ variety under their breaths on the way out. If Derek hears them he gives no sign. Stiles dawdles until he’s the last one except for Derek and Ms Argent and she gives him a stern look that clearly tells him to be gone. Eventually he reluctantly steps into the corridor where Scott’s waiting with Allison by his side to walk to their next class together. Normally he would say something to Scott but with Allison there he can’t do that and knowing Scott he wouldn’t have noticed anything amiss anyway. As it happens, it’s safe to say this time it’s less to do with being clueless and more with being unable to take in anything other than Allison.

He doesn’t think about Derek until he sees him again for last period, when he sits down next to Stiles with just a silent nod. Stiles is surprised at first but then realizes that it’s just expedient. It’s Chemistry again and as they already know they’ll be stuck with each other, they might as well forego the obligatory seat-changing for experiments. So he just nods back and keeps his head down. Harris grades the reports from the previous lesson while they’re all busy growing crystals.

“So, what did Miss  _I’m too sexy for my blouse_ want from you?” Stiles asks halfway through the mixing process, conveniently forgetting that he and Derek are nowhere near close enough to ask him personal questions. When has that ever stopped him before? Never, that’s when. It’s hereditary, so to speak, after all asking personal questions is what his dad does all day. So what if Stiles isn’t a cop – yet – he’s interested, okay? Concerned for his fellow students. Straight questions have gotten him more straight answers than anyone would believe.

Derek just frowns at him for a while and when Stiles nods encouragingly and gives a winning smile, he says without heat, “Just mind your own business.”

“Understood. Consider me mindful of my own business. But if you’re ever in need: I could mind yours as well. I’d make an excellent minder of your business, none better.”

Derek keeps staring at him. Then he says in a strange tone, “Do you ever shut up?”

“No. Not really.” And Stiles proceeds to prove it but he veers onto the subject of what they’re doing and Derek obviously doesn’t feel the need to participate in the conversation any longer.

At the end of the lesson they collect their reports as they file past the teacher’s desk. Stiles looks at the B- and shrugs. Harris likes to mark him down but the grade is better than usual, possibly because he doesn’t dare make it too obvious when Stiles isn’t teamed with Scott. The report was definitely worth more than that though.

As he puts the paper in his bag, Stiles runs into Derek, who’s picked up his report before him and has abruptly stopped in his tracks. Stiles faceplants into Derek’s back, catching just a second of his astonished expression as Derek turns on his heels, circumvents Stiles, and drops the paper back on Harris’s desk. Stiles waits to see what that’s all about.

“You seem to have made a mistake, Sir,” Derek says with utter politeness.

“I can assure you I haven’t,” Harris says displaying an obviously false smile. “I’m afraid you’ll be struggling to keep up your perfect score with Mr. Stilinski as a partner.”

“That would be surprising since Mr. Stilinski is one of your best students...”

“He’s hardly that, Mr. Hale.”

Stiles pipes up with a pouty, “He’s also standing right here,” at the same time as Derek finishes icily, “...even though you choose not to reflect that in his grades.”

It’s difficult to say who’s more astonished, Harris or Stiles, as they both stare at Derek lost for words.

“I would like to suggest a compromise, Sir, if I may, as I’m sure this is just an honest mistake. So Mr. Stilinski and I will leave it with you. You’re a busy man so we don’t mind waiting for your decision. Meanwhile I’ll let my mother know that my report couldn’t be graded today. And Mr. Stilinski will speak to his father, who will also be keen to know the results of his son’s work. But as both of them are also busy people, being the sheriff and the county judge of this town respectively, they may not find the time to look into this for a few days. So that will give you the opportunity to take another look at our work and I’m sure our parents won't have to make time for this.”

Harris has gone bright red in his anger. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Hale?”

Derek smiles for the first time. “With what, Sir? I’m sure that if you haven’t made a mistake, our report and its grade will hold up to scrutiny by our parents and the school when compared against all the other reports you graded today. In which case I will sincerely apologize for suggesting otherwise. This is just a difference of opinion.”

“It so happens that it’s _my_ opinion that counts, not _yours_.”

“Well, Chemistry _as such_ is hardly a matter of opinion, Sir. It’s science. We’ll just leave this here.” Derek gestures to his report and looks at Stiles indicating with a jerk of his head towards the desk.

Stiles scrambles to place his own report there as well while tumbling a couple of books out of his bag in his haste. He picks them up and steps back because there’s so much seething anger between the other two, the air is practically sizzling. Harris looks ready to explode while Derek is even scarier because his anger is quiet and icy cold. Right now Stiles would rather go three rounds with Harris, verbally or physically, than having to deal with Derek in his current mood.

“Goodbye, Sir,” Derek says and turns on his heel and walks out of the room as if nothing happened.

Stiles is caught momentarily off-guard by Derek’s speedy exit. Finding himself suddenly alone with Harris, he smiles uncomfortably with too much teeth, mutters, “What _he_ said,” and practically runs out.

The corridor is full of students getting their stuff out of their lockers in preparation to go home. He pushes through the crowd but as he doesn’t know where Derek’s locker is, he must have turned the wrong way. By the time he realizes that Derek’s nowhere to be found and therefore must be at the other end of the corridor, it’s too late. The crowd is thinning and there’s no sign of him. He must have left already. All Stiles can do is catch up with Scott – and Allison, of course – and tell both of them in minute detail what just happened. He has the satisfaction that both of them are as impressed and full of glee as he is.

 

*******

 

Derek’s going through the motions of the day, like he does every day. His mother informed him very early on after it happened that he can’t stay in bed so he stumbles into the bathroom. Why does he never seem to be awake properly? If anything, he sleeps too much rather than too little but he still wakes up with a leaden lethargy. It’s not physical. If need be, he could react with his usual speed and strength. It’s just that it’s an effort to do anything at all, even the most mundane tasks.

School needs to be tuned out. He’s not one to slump or keep his eyes lowered but he also doesn’t really see anyone. He doesn’t want to. He also has no idea what people are saying about him and he really doesn’t care either. If he wanted to know, he obviously could, but it’s a family thing. Pack and family come first. No one else’s opinion counts so why bother knowing it? His parents told him that from the day he was old enough to listen and it’s a credo they all whole-heartedly embrace.

Right now, not listening to other people and not caring about them, helps him stay focused on school and keep himself from flying apart at the seams. He sees Paige everywhere. There’s her photograph and the candle by her locker. Over there she talked to him for the first time. In this classroom they surreptitiously held hands during class once. Over there...

He’s never experienced heartbreak, not really, not the kind where you love someone and they don’t love you back. He saw her, he liked her, he took about a week and a half to win her over, he was happy and excited. Paige was smart and sassy, beautiful and kind. They had fun. They fancied themselves in love. It could have been a simple high school romance and maybe in the end he would have broken her heart or she his and they’d both have gotten over it. But now he never will. You don’t get over someone dying in your arms – and you certainly never get over killing them. He’ll always love and miss her now. All his life he’s been prepared that there are people out there who may want to kill him. And that at some point he may have to defend himself or his pack or some innocent bystander and that it would be okay. No one ever said that he might kill someone by being stupid and that it will never be okay after that.

Laura drives him to school and back some days. Luckily she’s a senior this year so he’ll have two whole years after this when he’ll be the only Hale in the school. He’s sick of his family’s scrutiny. Cora and Olivia won’t start high school until long after he finishes and his cousins another two years after that. Hopefully when Laura leaves for college he’ll also have use of the car.

“Do you have lacrosse practice today?” she asks when she parks the Camaro in the school parking lot.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Then I won’t wait for you.”

He shrugs and gets out to start another day. He works his way through his lessons with diligent silence and has his lunch on the grassy bit in front of the school. It’s warm enough to just lie there and close his eyes for a bit – if you’re a werewolf. No one bothers him.

As always he’s the first one in the classroom. The crowds in the corridors irritate him these days so he arrives early and reads a bit in an effort to stop people from approaching him. In general it works well, but today he becomes aware of Stiles almost as soon as he sits down next to him. That guy is such a fidget it makes Derek restless. Why is he even sitting here? This is English and just because Harris forces them to be lab partners in Chemistry doesn’t mean they’re buddies now.

He glances up to catch Stiles trying to sneak a look at his book out of the corner of his eye. As Stiles is known for his relentlessness among other equally annoying traits, Derek holds his book up for a moment so Stiles can read the front, which he does quite overtly and nods. Derek tries to ignore him after that but his concentration is broken. A quick look past Stiles reveals the answer to the mystery of his new neighbor. McCall’s obviously got the hots for New Girl.

The new teacher doesn’t look like a teacher at all, too young, too beautiful. He’s glad he doesn’t talk to anyone anymore because he really wouldn’t like to have to listen to the remarks she’ll undoubtedly elicit. Every guy’s hormones will go into overdrive although Stiles gives off a vibe of not so much excitement as... anger? Not quite. It’s more like... but he doesn’t care enough to try and identify the scent more precisely.

The lesson is unexpectedly engaging. In a sense the topic concerns a part of his life that he’s come to question recently. The change he can’t do anything about nor does he want to. But he keeps wondering what it means for his life and that of the people around him. For Paige it was fatal. Where does he go from there?

Ms Argent makes some good points on the subject. It’s almost as if she’s talking about shapeshifters in particular. Derek finds himself drawn to participate almost involuntarily. For a while there’s just a three-way discussion between her, Derek, and Stiles, of all people. Stiles’s remarks are heavily on the sarcastic side and maybe that’s the reason Ms Argent seems to focus more on Derek. Why does Stiles feel so hostile suddenly?

After the lesson Ms Argent asks him to stay behind. They have to wait until Stiles finally leaves the room after packing and repacking his stuff twice. She follows him to the door and shuts it firmly before coming back to perch sideways on her desk.

“I don’t want to hit you with too much concern, Derek, but I read your file. I read all my students files, but yours stuck out. You’re Ivy League material and you know that. It would be a shame if that potential went to waste because you had a... an unfortunate incident happen to you.”

Derek stays silent. That was just the introduction. He’s heard the same spiel before from other teachers, the _you need to keep up with your grades, it’s been months_ speech. He’ll let her prattle on. In the meantime he’ll try to work out why she doesn’t fit into his notion of a teacher. There are other pretty teachers around but nobody like her. He watches her push a strand of her long hair behind her ear and smile at him with a slightly lowered head.

“I wanted to offer you some help if you want it. I’m a trained counselor and if you want to talk with someone on a more causal basis than you can with Ms... Ms...”

“Moran,” he supplies automatically.

“Ah yes, Ms Moran. I’m sure she’s very competent but I can be more flexible and a lot less formal.”

Somehow it doesn’t appear like she’s convinced of Ms Moran’s competence but her offer sounds genuine. Derek has so far refused all help of the professional kind. How can he tell a therapist about what happened with Paige? He’ll have a plethora of completely different problems if he starts talking about werewolves. And the therapist his parents want him to go to is a family friend, one he doesn’t particularly like or trust not to disclose anything to his mother.

So maybe an informal talk with someone who’s not associated with either his family or the school is the answer. Obviously he wouldn’t be able to talk to her about what really happened either. But she may have some advice on how to go from here in his personal life. She doesn’t seem too far removed from him age-wise, although she must be nearing her mid-twenties if she’s a qualified teacher – and a therapist apparently.

“I’d have to think about it,” he says vaguely. His mother won’t like it but he doesn’t want to sound like a child.

“Of course,” she says. “Take as long as you like. I’ll be here a few weeks. If you’re worried about what people will say, I can be very discreet. No one needs to know. _No one at all_.”

He nods and says goodbye deep in thought. It’s a tempting offer because one of the problems with going to therapy is that he feels that his mother will monitor him for results. If he doesn’t ‘get better’ as quickly as she thinks he should, she’ll interfere and demand answers and proof of progress. Not having to tell her about it is the only reason he didn’t reject Ms Argent outright.

He mulls it over as he doesn’t pay any attention whatsoever to History, which is easily his best subject. After that his last class of the day is Chemistry so he sits down next to Stiles. At this rate they’re going to be BFFs soon, especially as McCall seems to be wholly focused on New Girl. What was her name again? Something A ... Alice? No, Allison. Allison Argent, same as the new English teacher – who’s most likely unmarried if they have the same surname.

“So what did Miss  _I’m too sexy for my blouse_ want from you?”

Derek sighs inwardly. Yep, Stiles definitely thinks they have some kind of bond. He tells him to stay out of his affairs but knowing Stiles it won’t last for long. Come to think of it, how does he know that? He’s never consciously paid attention to the biggest nerd in school – except that if he knows that Stiles is that, then he sort of did pay attention at some point. This is just one hell of a weird day.

And it doesn’t improve after that. His report comes back marked with a B-. He’s never gotten anything worse than a B+ and the report he wrote certainly warrants a higher grade. He knows immediately why he’s suddenly doing badly in Chemistry so he turns around and in his best lawyer voice – as copied perfectly from his own mother – he sets Harris straight. Of course his mother will be furious that he invoked her authority without clearing it with her first but he didn’t actually _say_ she would interfere and he thinks Harris is enough of a bullying coward to back down. His mother will never know.

Still, he feels the need to run afterwards. Pushing his way through the pupils milling in the corridor he throws open the double doors and takes the front steps three at a time. Some of the other team members are already assembled on the lacrosse field and so is Finstock, who shouts, “Look at Hale go! That’s the kind of fitness I’m talking about, you flaccid bananas!”

There’s some more along the same lines but Derek is already near the trees and out of earshot. The woods are always soothing. It’s not exactly quiet because he can hear every rustling tree and every murmur of the nearby brook, not to mention a couple of hikers who are crashing through the undergrowth like grizzly bears, but there’s just a calm here that he can’t find anywhere else any longer.

It only lasts until he gets home.

“What are you doing home?” his mother asks, not unkindly. “What happened to lacrosse practice?”

“Uhm, I forgot.” It's a half-truth at best.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t feel like going. Okay?”

“No, Derek, it’s not okay. We agreed that you would do this and in return I’ll give you some more time to deal with what happened on your own. But if you break your promise...” She stops when Derek’s cellphone chimes.

Derek supposes he doesn’t look any less surprised than she does. In the past, _before,_ his phone would never stop with messages from his friends, like Laura’s still does, to the point that his mother banned phones from the dinner table. But nowadays his remains silent except when his family texts him, but the sound wasn’t the family ringtone.

“Who’s that?” she asks.

He foregoes any sarcastic remarks about not being a clairvoyant and just pulls his phone out of the bag to read the screen. “It’s from Stiles.”

“Who? Where have I heard that name before?”

“He’s the sheriff’s son.” Derek stares at the message. _Dude!!! that was AWESOME!!!_

“The Stilinski kid? I didn’t know you were friends.”

“We’re…” He checks himself and continues carefully. “We’re lab partners and we’ve a lot of classes together and he’s on the team.” Technically all of that is true. He just waits for her to infer what she desperately wants to hear.

“So you did make a new friend. That’s good. His dad’s a good man. Very intuitive. I’d like to meet this Stiles.”

“ _Mom._ ”

“No, really. I want to meet him. Bring him to dinner.”

He sighs. “Can I go upstairs?”

“Sure, honey,” she says, mollified now that she thinks he’s taking the direction she wants him to go.

Relieved he flees up the stairs and firmly closes the door to his room. Then he stretches out on his bed and composes a careful message. _Thanks. We should play it by the book from now on though. Write the report together. Tomorrow after school?_

There’s a pause long enough for him to read a chapter and a half of his book before his phone chimes again.

_Sure thing dude_

Derek hates being called _dude_.  

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

**3**

 

“I can’t,” Scott says and somehow he doesn’t sound anywhere near as apologetic as Stiles would have expected. There’s more of a _surely-you-must-see-that_ feel to it.

“But we always spend Thursdays at my house.” It’s true. For the last ten months Stiles’s dad has worked the graveyard shift every Thursday mainly because the only two people he trusts enough to run the station in his absence have decided to join an amateur theatre group – together. So Scott and Stiles have been using the empty house to play games at full volume with no parental unit there to voice any objections.

Stiles tries a facetious pout to cover how upset he is but Scott takes his pout and raises him puppy dog eyes and, damn, those are always an instant fold on Stiles’s part. He sighs, pats Scott’s back a few times and walks over to his locker.

This is the third night he’ll be on his own. He gets it, he really does. Allison’s parents want to meet the new boyfriend and Scott can’t really say no to that, much as he’d like to because he’s shitting bricks at the mere thought of meeting the in-laws. Stiles doesn’t feel as bad for him as he thinks he should. Scott knows how much Stiles enjoys their Thursday nights and how much he hates being on his own. Stiles actually thought they meant something to Scott as well. Apparently not because otherwise he would have said, _sorry I can’t meet your folks today how about tomorrow?_

Well, that would work if tomorrow wasn’t the lacrosse party. And if Scott wasn’t all antsy from not seeing Allison last night either because he had to work. Stiles _really_ gets it. He just thought… nah, he’s being a terrible friend. He can always go and spend time with his dad at the station. They haven’t done that in a while. His dad will love it – in a _why aren’t you doing homework?_  kind of way. Stiles will love it, too, once he’s gotten over his disappointment.

When he closes his locker door a little harder than necessary it reveals Derek leaning next to it, looking straight at him. Stiles jumps backwards in surprise and then flails a little to remain upright. Great! He’s reaffirming his position as the school idiot.

“Good morning,” Derek says with raised eyebrows and there’s a tiny hint of a smile on his face. “Did I startle you?”

“What? No. Not at all. Whatever gave you that idea?”

Luckily Derek decides to change the subject. “About that Chemistry report…”

Stiles groans. He forgot that he’s agreed to meet after school but that’s hardly Derek's fault. “Yeah, no problem. When and where?”

“You have a car, don’t you?”

“Ye-es,” Stiles says, stretching the word, wondering where this is going. Obviously not in the direction of the library, like he expected.

“So you could come to my place. But it’s out in the preserve.”

And suddenly Stiles’s day is looking up considerably. “Yes,” he says a little too fast. “Good plan. Let’s do that. I’ll wait for you after school.”

Derek looks at him askance for a while, then nods, says, “Okay,” and walks away.

Stiles loses no time to get to class and tell Scott about his good fortune. “Guess where I’m going after school?”

“Where?”

Doing a drum roll on his desk Stiles pitches his voice as low as it can go. “The Hale house.”

“You serious?” Scott’s eyes are wide. “How come?”

Stiles changes his demeanor to mock nonchalance. “Derek's invited me.” As if it’s daily occurrence.

“Derek Hale?”

“No, Derek from the gas station.”

“Really?”

“No! Of course, Derek Hale, why else would I be going to the _Hale_ house?”

“Why are you?”

“Studying.” Stiles grins.

When they were much younger he and Scott got lost on their bikes one day and came across the house in the middle of the preserve. There was no one around so to their imaginative childish minds it looked like a witch’s house or at least haunted for sure. Even after all these years it’s retained a certain mystique for them. They have a longstanding bet about who’d be the first to actually get inside.

“Since when are you two best buddies?” There’s a hint of a complaint in Scott’s voice that has nothing to do with losing a bet that’s such ancient history they’ve both forgotten the stakes for it by now.

Stiles tries hard to keep his own resentment unnoticeable. “Since you’ve started hanging with the popular crowd.”

“Aw come on, you know they just like Allison. I’m just a hanger-on.”

“Which makes me the hanger-on of the hanger-on. Ouch. I think I’ll pass.”

“You’re not my hanger-on,” Scott says with a hurt expression. “We’re bros.”

Stiles can’t help but smile and they fist-bump across the aisle. Then Allison comes into the room and Scott turns to her immediately, like a flower to the sun. With a resigned smile, Stiles gets out his pens, notepads and book and promptly packs half of it back up when the teacher arrives and announces a pop quiz.

In third period he finds himself next to Allison as if they’re friends and will naturally choose to sit together even though Scott's in a different class. It only lasts until Lydia turns up and silently waits in front of his desk until he moves so she can sit next to her new best friend. He doesn’t mind because it means he’s sitting next to Lydia. Granted she has her back half turned so she can pretend to pay attention while simultaneously chatting to Allison whenever the teacher’s facing the board but Stiles is thrilled nonetheless. Once or twice when she moves he can even catch a hint of her perfume.

With sitting next to Scott at lunch and therefore surrounded by their new 'friends', too, Stiles feels rather pleased and yet he knows that he wouldn’t be here if Scott wasn’t dating Allison and he wouldn’t even _want_ to be here if it wasn’t for Lydia. He dislikes most of the people at this table. The conversation hasn’t improved and he misses just goofing with Scott. _Careful what you wish for,_ he thinks as he watches Jackson grandstanding about his new car, another Porsche, naturally. He can’t even find it in himself to be envious. He wouldn’t swap Roscoe for the world. It was his mother’s car.

And he tells Roscoe so when he’s sitting in the Jeep after school waiting for his passenger. He hasn’t been able to get Derek out of his mind all day, has played through numerous scenarios and conversations in his head. He always does that when he’s going to spend time with people he doesn’t know well or anticipates unfamiliar situations. None of his mental practice runs ever actually play out in reality, but he just can’t stop doing it. He likes to have a plan for every occasion.

He waves to Scott, who’s waiting with Allison for her ride home, and then mutters a _what the fuck?_ when it arrives – the biggest and chunkiest SUV he’s ever seen in real life. A man gets out, whom he supposes to be Allison’s dad as he focuses steely blue eyes on Scott, causing him to shrink back involuntarily and who can blame him? That guy’s scary as hell despite his brief but very indulgent smile at his daughter.

Then Derek comes down the steps and Mr. Argent follows him with his eyes or so it seems. Yeah, that’s not creepy at all. Must run in the family. Stiles is only completely sure that he isn’t imagining it when his own eyes meet the cold blue ones and the man looks away as if nothing happened. The next moment Derek climbs into the passenger seat with a quick, _Hi_.

“Hey. You don’t know Allison by any chance, do you?”

Derek just frowns.

“The new girl? Alison Argent? Or maybe her aunt? The new English teacher? No, of course you don’t.” Stiles starts the car and maneuvers out of the parking lot, where Scott is now eagerly nodding at something Mr. Argent’s saying. Suddenly Scott cancelling their game night to attend a summons from her family seems like not much of a choice. Stiles is finally beginning to feel truly sorry for him.

“So where did you learn to talk like that?” Stiles tries to kick-start a conversation when Derek makes no effort. “I mean like you did to Harris. It was awesome, man! His face! I was seriously impressed. He’s been doing this shit to me for years. It was the best payback ever.”

“You shouldn’t let him get away with it. He’s always marking you down. Why do you never say anything?”

“Hey! I say plenty. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh I _noticed_. _Everyone_ notices. But goofing around won’t get you the grades you deserve. Your parents should speak to the school.”

Stiles is torn between feeling validated that other people have noticed his mistreatment by Harris, too, and the suggestion that his dad’s somehow not looking out for him properly. “It’s just my dad and me and he’s really busy, being the sheriff and all.”

Derek shrugs, silently dismissing the subject. “You know where you’re going?”

“Your house? Yeah, I know it. Not many people live in the middle of nowhere. All of Beacon Hills knows the Hale house.”

“Do people actually call it that?”

“Sure. Or sometimes they call it the Triple-H. The Haunted Hale House.”

“Haunted,” Derek deadpans.

Stiles gives him a winning smile and tries to rein in his roaming chatter. He’ll just make Derek uncomfortable and then this will get awkward or rather: _more_ awkward. The drive out to the preserve is long enough as it is. “Are your parents going to be home?”

“Well, they can’t really leave, you know, being ghosts and all.”

Stiles takes a moment to process the remark because the cool delivery is so at odds with the content. Then he laughs nervously. “I didn’t mean anything. It’s just what people say. I mean there’s you and your sister and you’re obviously not ghosts. And your cousin, too. The one that finished last year.”

“Peter’s not my cousin. He’s my uncle. You can turn right here. It’s a shortcut.”

Stiles almost misses the little dirt track that he never noticed before. There are two large signs a little further in proclaiming that this is ‘Private Property’ but he thinks he’ll be okay with Derek with him. And even if he was not, when have signs like that ever kept him out of anything, least of all trouble?

“I bet Lorna doesn’t go this way in her fancy sports car,” he says as the jeep rumbles wildly over the uneven ground. No wonder the track is little used.

“If you’re talking about my sister, her name’s Laura.”

“Is it?” Stiles frowns. He could have sworn it was Lorna. He doesn’t have much to do with the older students in school. It could even be argued that he has barely anything to do with the people in his own year. He belongs neither to any of the popular groups nor the nerds and geeks. He and Scott are more of a team of two, just one person removed from being loners, although Stiles at least has a passing acquaintance with most people.

The house comes into view sooner than expected, which presumably would be the reason Derek called this route a shortcut. Stiles parks between the black Camaro and the silver SUV. There are also a small Land Rover and a cabriolet parked next to the Camaro.

“How come you don’t have a car?” Stiles blurts out as they’re walking up to the house.

“No car before you’re eighteen,” Derek grunts.

Stiles thinks it’s maybe a sore point, so he shuts up about it. Instead he looks at his surroundings. The house is even bigger than he remembers it. The front door leads into a large room with a fireplace that seems to be vestibule and reception room in one. There’s space for shoes and coats, a table littered with paraphernalia to go outside, like hats, umbrellas, a shoehorn, some coins and several bunches of keys. But there’s also a large sofa in front of the fire as if this is supposed to be a living room.

Then he follows Derek into the biggest kitchen he’s ever seen with a huge table and matching chairs. Derek grabs two sodas from the fridge and walks on to stick his head into the room next to the kitchen. “I’m home. I brought Stiles to do some homework.”

A man comes to the door who’s obviously Derek's dad, judging by the strong resemblance. It looks like Derek's gonna be handsome all his life, the lucky fuck. “You must be the sheriff’s son,” he says in deep melodious voice, a singing voice as his mother used to call it.

“I am indeed,” Stiles says, reaching out his hand, “Very pleased to meet you, Sir.”

“You, too,” the man replies shaking on it with a nice tight grip. “Will you be staying for dinner? You’d be very welcome.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say, it’s so unexpected. But just as he remembers that he’ll be alone at home or have to go to the station, and that might just outbalance his awkwardness around unfamiliar people, Derek says, “We just have to write a report, Dad. It won’t take that long.”

Mr. Hale nods, his smile never faltering. “Well, let’s see how long it takes you. There’s plenty of food. So the offer’s there.”

“Thank you, Sir. That’s very kind of you.” There’s no way Stiles will stay for dinner if Derek doesn’t want him there. He has enough trouble with social occasions when he feels wanted.

Derek's room is huge, at least three times the size of his own bedroom. There are shelves all around the walls stuffed with books, a basketball hoop over the door, a desk with a computer and a double bed. Everything is clad in wood and the floor just has a large multi-colored rug in the middle. The big window lets in a lot of light, especially with the sun being out. Stiles steps up to it and sees nothing but trees. Wow, just wow. “This is amazing.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek says and puts his backpack and the drinks on the desk.

“I won’t stay for dinner,” Stiles assures him, alerted by something in Derek's voice.

Derek looks at him for a while as if he’s assessing him.

“It’s not my fault your dad invited me. I won’t stay. Let’s just do this.” Stiles feels incredibly unwelcome and it’s unfair because he didn’t do anything.

Silently Derek goes and shuts the door, then comes to stand close to Stiles and says quietly, “Actually it might not be such a bad idea. You could do me favor?”

Stiles squints his eyes. “What kind of a favor?” He feels a little uncomfortable with Derek's extreme proximity. He’d step back but Derek's voice has gone so low he would probably no longer be able to hear him if he did.

“I need my parents to think we’re friends.”

“You and me? Friends? Buddies? You mean buddies, right? Not friends with benefits.”

Derek scrunches up his face and steps back. “Forget it.”

“No,” Stiles says quickly. “I can be buddies with you. I just wanted to get that out there. I mean out of the way. You know what I mean. But yeah, I can be your BFF for your parents. But why? You have friends.”

Derek shrugs. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated,” Stiles smirks. “Gotcha. I can be uncomplicated. Let’s give it a shot.”

For a few moments they stand awkwardly around, then both of them grab for their school stuff at the same time. Stiles is already regretting that he agreed to this.

 

*******

 

Derek is early as he is every time he makes his own way to school. His mother won’t deny him an early morning run as long as it doesn’t draw any attention. So he usually takes the route through the woods cutting onto the main road near the school and walking the rest of the way. Today a large black car slows down next to him matching his step. The blackened window is lowered and Ms Argent smiles at him.

“Good morning, Derek. Hop in. I’ll give you a ride.”

“I’m good. Thank you, Miss.” He’s always particularly loath to talk in the mornings. It’s the main reason that he doesn’t drive to school with Laura unless it’s raining or he's running late.

“Ah, com’on. I won’t bite.” She wiggles her eyebrows facetiously which doesn’t do much to countermand the husky voice she used when she said it.

It’s the first time that Derek has even looked at anyone _that_ way since… since... She’s the polar opposite of Paige, older, experienced, sexy and flirty. _Down, boy,_ he tells himself. After all Ms Argent is his teacher and she may not be flirting, just being friendly in a weird way. Or maybe she _is_ flirting but hopefully would never go there. This isn’t much different from how she was in class yesterday.

In an effort to avoid a lengthy discussion, he climbs into the passenger seat and she speeds up again. The car smells of metal, some sort of oil and her perfume which is a strangely seductive mixture. She’s wearing a skirt today that leaves her legs exposed from halfway down her thighs, showing off her tan. He tries not to look.

“Have you thought about my offer?” she asks.

How does she manage to make even the most innocuous remark sound sexual? She offered to counsel him, nothing more. Everything else is just in his head because she’s hot. “I’m not sure yet,” he hedges.

“Well, there’s no pressure but I will only be here for a few weeks and these things take time. But you have to be sure that you want to. It’s no use going into counseling and not wanting to be completely honest.”

“I know,” he says. It’s so damn tempting but he’s not sure if he’s ready to talk to anyone. If he never had to talk to another human being about anything for the rest of his life he’d be happy.

She stops the car in the school parking lot and puts a warm hand on his arm. “Take your time. I’ll be here for you if you want me.”

He nods and scrambles out of the car taking a deep, calming breath of fresh air when he shuts the door. Then he instantly regrets practically fleeing the car. If she is flirting with him, he’s really enjoying it. “Thank you, Miss,” he says when she gets out.

“You’re most welcome.”

There’s a soft smile and suddenly she looks stunning. Derek rushes up the steps and goes to take a shower in the locker room to wash off the sweat from his run before everyone else turns up. He finishes just in time to catch Stiles in the corridor.

Stiles’s antics just to avoid falling over his own feet always make him wonder how the guy managed to get on the lacrosse team even as a bench warmer. On the other hand he likes the deadpan way Stiles pretends that it didn’t happen. It’s amusing. Stiles is amusing. And that’s the second surprise of the day. No one has as much as diverted him in months.

He wonders why Stiles is so eagerly agreeing to come to his house after school. Is there something he’s missing? He’s only inviting him to get his mother to stop pestering him about spending time with friends. He really hopes Stiles doesn’t misunderstand it. While Derek's not above using other people for his purposes, he draws the line at hurting their feelings.

 

 

Later, on the way home, he realizes that his plan will never work. Stiles doesn’t even know his sister’s name, how is he ever going to pass as a friend? His parents aren’t stupid. He tries to avert the worst when his father invites Stiles to eat with them. It’s normal for friends to stay for meals. His parents are very welcoming.

He waits patiently through Stiles predictably admiring his room. Everybody always does. As if living in the middle of the forest is such a benefit, beyond the view. It’s a necessity if the family wants to keep what they are a secret. That’s the only advantage of living miles away from other people. He’d much rather live in town.

When Stiles starts almost apologizing for being invited by his dad, Derek feels awful. He can’t exploit another person like that. Manipulation is Peter’s forte, not his, but maybe honesty will work. Maybe if he just _asked_ Stiles to help him out…

Wait a minute, _what?_ Did Stiles really just suggest… what exactly was he suggesting? That they’d pretend to be friends with benefits? Or that they actually…? Without his volition Derek's eyes travel down Stiles’s body and he can’t deny that he’s attractive in a lanky sort of way, or would be, if he grew out that awful buzzcut and… _fuck the approaching full moon!_ It always makes his hormones go haywire. He sees propositions where there aren’t any and all of them are suddenly tempting as hell when he’s never considered any of the people around him before. He can’t wait until puberty is finally done so that he doesn’t have to second-guess himself around the full moon any longer.

“Shall we just get this done?” Stiles asks. “I think we should just get this done.”

They work through their report on yesterday’s experiment. Luckily Stiles is pretty good at formulating precise sentences despite the way he talks. He even knows how to type, meaning they’re finished within half an hour.

Turning around after printing out the report, Derek sees Stiles already by the door rucking up his rucksack over one shoulder and stretching out his hand for his copy.

“You don’t need to go,” he says.

“I think I should. I wasn’t really offering any benefits, you know.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

“Yeah, well, you looked disgusted enough at the mere suggestion. Which I don’t blame you for, dude. Not everyone’s into…”

“I wasn’t disgusted.” Derek feels himself blushing furiously at the unintentional vehemence of his statement. He just didn’t want Stiles to think there’s anything disgusting about him. That would be awful.

Stiles lets out a noise that could be a laugh or hiccup or anything in between. For a moment Derek just wants him gone because now he feels embarrassed, but he calms himself down. None of this is Stiles’s fault.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he mumbles.

“Nobody got off. And nobody’s going to get off. That’s the whole point, I think.”

“Will you just stop with the innuendos? I never suggested anything like that. I was just asking you if you could maybe pretend to be my friend in front of my parents.”

“Don’t you have any friends?”

“None that I want to hang out with.”

Stiles squints his eyes again and says nothing for a while. Eventually he walks over to place his bag on the desk. “I’m just gonna have a look at your books for a bit and then we can start over.”

Derek just nods. He tries not to watch Stiles because now that he has _looked_ even for a moment he can’t unsee his slender neck, his surprisingly strong hands or the curve of his ass in those terrible khakis. Stiles has really nice eyes, too, warm, alert, sparkly. Derek determinedly turns to the window. He can’t decide if it’s worse being turned on by his teacher or by some guy he never much noticed before Monday. The full moon can’t come soon enough this month.

By the time his father calls them down to dinner, all of those thoughts are forgotten. They've discovered that both of them are heavily into manga and graphic novels. It seems like the first bit of common ground and a very fertile one at that. And then there’s baseball.

His mother has just arrived, Derek heard her car pull up about ten minutes ago, and she’s still in her work clothes, power suit and high heels. Stiles greets her with a handshake, nods to Peter and is introduced to Cora and Olivia, who are just a year apart in age and still home-schooled. When it comes to saying hello to Laura, Stiles grins and says, “And you must be Lorna.”

Laura raises her eyebrows and Stiles laughs. “It’s just a joke between us. The first time Derek and I talked about you, I called you Lorna.”

Derek has to smile at his explanation because while it is true, he never mentions that the conversation he’s recounting only took place this afternoon. He’s beginning to like Stiles’s sense of humor. As a bonus he can feel his mother’s gaze on himself, no doubt happy that he’s smiling. He doesn’t do much of that anymore.

It only takes about twenty minutes for Derek to realize that his family is utterly smitten with his new ‘friend’. Except for Peter, of course, who doesn’t like anyone who’s diverting attention away from him. Everyone else is laughing happily at Stiles’s jokes and anecdotes. His mother engages him in a long conversation about the sheriff. Stiles is less facetious when he talks about his dad, softer somehow, his fondness radiating so strongly you don’t need to be a werewolf to sense his fierce love.

For the longest time Derek thinks this might actually work. He’s secretly pleased even though his family is doing exactly what he always finds so annoying when he brings anyone home: his mother is being too friendly and asks way too many questions. His younger sisters are giggling trying not to show too openly that they’re developing an instant crush on their guest. They invariably do on anyone he or Laura invite back to the house, male or female. To be fair he did the same with all of Laura’s friends when she was already in high school and he was still educated at home.

Stiles talks so much and so fast that nobody really has a chance to ask too many follow-up questions. But then when there’s the tiniest lull in the conversation, Peter speaks for the first time. “So how long have you two been friends?” He puts just enough emphasis on the last word to arouse suspicion that there might be something sinister going on here.

 _Oh fuck,_ Derek obviously can’t lie to save the situation but he should have warned Stiles not to lie outright either. He just didn’t know how to explain that everyone in his family is a walking lie detector. Stiles somehow manages to have his mouth stuffed full of food at that very moment. He has put away an extraordinary amount of the beef stew and dumplings they’re having, which shouldn’t be possible with the constant chatter he’s providing. Now he slow-blinks at Peter as if he’s had his number all along then throws an arm around Derek's shoulder, loudly swallows his food, and says, “Hey, we’re teammates. That makes us BFFs by default.”

The little awkward pause before he spoke is instantly forgotten when Cora and Olivia giggle at the face Derek knows he’s making on finding himself in an unexpected one-armed hug. He hasn’t let anyone close in months but Stiles has no way of knowing that.

Peter smiles in that slightly menacing way that he has but refrains from asking any more questions when his alpha gives him a warning look. Stiles pulls his arm back, grins at Derek, who smiles back a little uncomfortably and the danger passes. For now. Once Peter’s on to something or thinks he is, he doesn’t let go easily.

Back in his room Stiles turns to Derek with a big, cheesy smile. “That was great,” he declares but there’s something in his voice that gives Derek just a split-second to prepare for what comes next. “Was it good for you, too, honey?” Stiles bats his eyelids for good measure.

Derek is torn between annoyed and dismayed. For one thing he thought they’d gotten past this faux-flirting crap two hours ago and for another he doesn’t know Stiles well enough not to be worried that he’ll accidentally-on-purpose give away what Derek asked him to do or simply tell his parents outright. Stiles never seems to shy away from embarrassing situations after all.

“Uhm, I was going to say thank you for doing that for me.”

Stiles stalks over to the desk to grab his school bag and his hoodie from the back of the chair. When he gets back to Derek, who’s still rooted to the spot near the door, his face no longer shows any trace of a smile but he doesn’t seem particularly angry either. “Don’t ever ask me to do that again. You have no idea… some people would give anything…” He shakes his head and just mutters. “See you in school.”

Derek listens as he stomps down the stairs, instantly alerting his mother to waylay him before he can leave the house. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yes, ma’am, my dad likes me to be home at a decent time on school nights.”

Derek can practically feel his mother melt at the politeness and the clean-cut image his words convey. Stiles has switched effortlessly from being clearly upset with Derek to conversing pleasantly with his mother.

“I wanted to invite you to our barbecue on Sunday. We do a barbecue once a month. It’s very informal. Mostly extended family and a few friends. You’d be very welcome.”

“Uhm, I… thank you. I don’t know if I…”

“Your father would be very welcome, too.”

“My dad?” Now Stiles is very obviously taken aback.

At this point Derek decides to go downstairs to take control of the situation if he can. His mother gives him a smile when she sees him but turns back to Stiles immediately. “Yes, your father and I know each other, of course, but not well. I would like to change that. But of course, it’s completely up to him. No pressure.”

Stiles gives Derek a look he can’t read then smiles at his mother. “I’ll ask him. But he might be working.”

Even Derek knows that Stiles would know his dad’s weekend schedule by heart. They seem very close so this must be an escape route he’s providing for his father by default.

His mother isn’t fooled either. “Of course, it’s really just a private invitation, nothing to do with either of our jobs. I understand that he might be otherwise engaged. But you could still come even if he can’t make it. We’d love to see you again.”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Derek intercedes.

Stiles nods eagerly and quickly says his goodbye to Derek’s mother before following Derek out of the house. They walk over to the Jeep together.

“Your mom’s very friendly.”

“Yeah,” Derek scoffs. “A little too friendly sometimes. Half my friends only visit because of her.” Well, that was _before_. No one has been visiting in months because he’s made sure no one would.

Stiles huffs a mirthless laugh and climbs into his car. He sits for a moment then lowers his window. “You don’t know how lucky you are.”

Derek frowns and steps back to let Stiles drive off. There’s obviously a whole history there that he doesn’t know. Stiles said it was only him and his dad, so there must be something that took the mother out of the picture. After he’s watched the taillights disappear, he strolls back into the house and very much against his recent habit he seeks out his mother.

“Mom? Do you know what happened to Mrs. Stilinski?”

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

**4**

 

Stiles didn’t sleep. Well, it _feels_ like he didn’t sleep but the last time he looked at the clock was at half past four and then it was time to get up. So he probably did get a couple of hours. His insomnia comes and goes. Sometimes he doesn’t have any trouble for weeks, then it’s every night. There are times when he just cannot relax when he goes to bed. He’s tried everything, staying up until he couldn’t see straight, not using his computer before bed, hot drinks, cold drinks, alcoholic drinks, even sleeping pills. The drugs worked, sort of, but he also couldn’t get up in the mornings so he took too many Adderall and then decided it would only lead to a drug addiction of one kind or another, so now he just bears with it when it happens.

Last night he played what happened after school over and over in his head. No amount of telling himself, _‘just don’t think about it’_ could stop the endless cycle. There was his inane behavior with Derek. He practically propositioned the guy! Don’t get him wrong, he isn’t dead set on dating girls just because he’s been stuck on Lydia since third grade. He has eyes and he can see how hot Derek is and he wouldn’t say no. Losing his virginity is long overdue and Lydia’s going to take what he’s offering on a platter only in his wildest dreams.

But he just took the friends with benefits joke too far. He should have stopped after first mentioning it. Or even better, he should never have talked about it at all. It’s not as if Derek's proposal was in any way ambiguous. But he was just so nervous, being in the Hale House and talking to Derek, who was the most popular guy in school for so long. On the BHHS social ladder, it was akin to being in Lydia’s bedroom – or Jackson’s, urgh.

And don’t get him started on the dinner. The Hale’s are just so… _nice_. He tried to make a good impression, he really did, but his mouth didn’t get the message as usual and even though his brain kept shouting _‘shut up, shut up, shut up’_ the whole time he was talking, somehow it didn’t get through.

He didn’t really say anything important, mainly made some jokes. Were they even funny? Did anyone laugh? They all did – except for the somewhat creepy cousin-who’s-actually-an-uncle – but maybe they were just being polite. Did they cringe on the inside the whole time? Fuck, why can he never stop talking? It’s _so_ embarrassing.

His mind veers helplessly between being mortified by the things he said to Derek and the way he behaved at the table. And the Hales were so friendly, even Derek was incredible fun to talk to when they discovered their mutual love for baseball and graphic novels. Derek even draws his own comics, although he didn’t show any of that to Stiles. No surprise there. Who would trust a guy like him with something personal like that anyway?

While he’s under the shower he resolves to just stay out of Derek's way for a bit. Avoidance always helps him calm down. And it would be better if he didn’t mention the invitation to the barbecue to his dad either. If he doesn’t know, he won’t worry about it. His dad shouldn’t have to worry about anything. He has enough on his plate and he probably wouldn’t enjoy it anyway. Wouldn’t be good for his health either. So Stiles is doing him a favor really.

His dad arrives home just in time to have the table set for breakfast when Stiles comes downstairs and he’s brought fresh bagels. Stiles grabs the bag and inhales deeply like an addict.

“You’re the best dad ever.”

“I know and I’ll remind you of that next time you think I’m oh so unreasonable. How was your night?”

“Good. I went to a friend’s house to work on our Chemistry report and stayed for dinner. You and I are invited to the Hales’ barbecue on Sunday by the way but you probably don’t want to go.” So much for not telling his dad! But he knows that Mrs. Hale and his dad have a working relationship and that an invitation like that is probably some huge deal on the networking side of things and his dad’s position is elected after all. He couldn’t keep it to himself in more ways than one.

“I don’t?” his dad asks with that smile he so often has, although he looks dead tired from his nightshift.

At least with his dad he’s almost certain that he won’t lose any points for behaving like an idiot. His dad’s used to it, mostly, and is amused rather than exasperated, as long as Stiles doesn’t get into trouble.

“Yeah, you know, all that unhealthy food and people you don’t really know. And not to mention that I would have to go as well.”

“You don’t want to? You didn’t like them?” There’s a hint of alertness now, the all too familiar, _tell me if anyone hurt you, kid, because I will hunt them down_.

Stiles smiles at his dad, acknowledging the protectiveness that’s always implied but never much talked about. “The Hales are _awesome_.” He knows that a lot of his good impression of them had to do with their sheer number. He really enjoyed sitting at a big table with a lively family. It was such a contrast to their own quiet house or even Scott’s where they never get past three people around the table either.

“Then maybe we should think about going?”

Stiles shrugs. He knows he doesn’t have to accompany his dad. The Hales don’t expect it and he’s never really been forced to go places he doesn’t want to go since he was deemed old enough to spend a few hours without supervision. But he also knows that if his dad goes, he will, too. That’s just how it works. How else is he going to keep an eye on his father’s diet?

By Sunday he may have gathered enough courage to face the Hales again, especially if his dad’s there as a buffer and a conversation partner in case no one wants to talk to him. Fortunately he doesn’t have any classes with Derek until English this afternoon and with Derek always being somewhere where other people are not, it’ll be easy to stay out of his way.

Or so Stiles thinks, because he’s fully prepared to do his utmost not to end up sitting next to him in English again. What he doesn’t expect is to sit down with Scott at lunch and find himself sandwiched between his best friend and Derek a few minutes later. Derek hasn’t taken his lunch in the lunch hall since the summer. The most he does is walk through to get food when the menu offers something palatable.

Today he’s brought his own, some tacos stuffed full with meat and salad in a plastic container. He picks one up and offers it to Stiles, who hasn’t even recovered enough to say _hey_ yet and therefore takes it automatically. Then Allison and Lydia sit down opposite with Danny on Lydia’s other side facing Derek.

“You coming to my party tonight?” Danny asks, shaking his juice before pouring it. The lacrosse parties are usually held at either Danny’s home or Jackson’s because both have the biggest houses and the most indulgent parents – who also make things easier by being mostly absent.

“Sure,” Stiles says.”If you want.” The next minute he wants to bite off his tongue because Danny looks at Derek and says pointedly, “I meant _you_.”

“Isn’t it a party for the lacrosse team?” Derek asks.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Then why isn’t Stiles invited?” There’s a slightly annoyed undertone in Derek’s voice.

Danny frowns. “He is. He just never turns up.”

Derek looks questioningly at Stiles, who shrugs. It’s true although he always assumed that his invite was more of a general nature that no one expected – or wanted – him to actually follow. And why would he want to spend an evening being taunted by Jackson and ignored by everyone else anyway? He has better things to do with his time. Even Lydia’s presence isn’t enough to tempt him.

After a moment Stiles becomes aware that Derek’s still looking at him maybe because he looks particularly ridiculous right now with both cheeks bulging from the taco he’s stuffing himself with. Someone in the Hale household is an exceptionally gifted cook. By the time he’s swallowed his mouthful, he feels like everyone at the table is looking at him.

“I’m usually doing my hair on Friday nights,” he says.

Derek smiles and to his own surprise Stiles likes that more than Lydia’s snort. Then Derek turns back to Danny. “Sorry, can’t make it. We have a family thing tonight.”

“Just as well,” Stiles agrees. “It’s the full moon tonight. Things are gonna get hairy.”

“What?” Now there’s a distinct sharpness in Derek's voice and abruptly his face changes to his familiar glower.

“The full moon. Brings out the crazies. Scott’s mum works at the hospital. She has the best full moon stories, seriously. And the lacrosse team’s crazy enough without lunar assistance.”

Scott is nodding his amused concurrence. He and Stiles have been listening agape to some of his mother’s tales of the full moon in the ER department of the Beacon Hills Memorial.

“Oh.” And somehow that’s the end of that conversation. While Derek remains at the table, he doesn’t say another word but his expression speaks volumes about his opinion on the conversation.

Stiles feels obliged to offer Derek one of his candy bars in return for the taco. Maybe he could bribe Derek to bring him food every day because neither Stiles nor his dad are great cooks. Good homemade food is hard to come by.

After lunch Stiles has forgotten all about trying to avoid Derek so they end up next to each other in English again. He supposes the worst embarrassment is over after their initial conversation in the lunch hall. It’s not like he could avoid Derek forever. Also, Derek didn’t seem to think anything was amiss otherwise he wouldn’t have brought Stiles food. Or was that about something entirely different? With Derek next to him and Lydia opposite, he didn’t exactly pay attention to the rest of the hall. But now he has an idea where this sudden familiarity's coming from. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.

“It’s because of Laura, right?” he says.

Derek looks up from doodling on his notepad. “What?”

Stiles lowers his voice conspiratorially. “We’re still pretending, right? Because your sister could see us and we’re doing it for her? The food and the talking and the sitting together? I mean I’m game if you bring me food like that. I’m totally shabby enough to sell myself for awesome food.”

Derek stares at him until Stiles gets very uncomfortable. What even is the color of his eyes? No matter, they’re really expressive and… pretty. Windows to the soul. Yep. That’s what they are. And right now they’re expressing…

“No.”

“No? No, what? What are you no-ing? No more food? That’s heartless, man. Think of me as completely deprived of wholesome sustenance.”

“We’re not pretending,” Derek clarifies.

“Oh, okay. Got it.” Stiles should have known that Derek wouldn’t want to keep going. Most likely his parents weren’t all that impressed with Derek's choice so presenting Stiles as a friend didn’t score him any points. “Well, thanks for the tacos but you didn’t have to pay me.”

“I didn’t.”

Stiles blinks in confusion, but Ms Argent arrived two minutes ago and the class has gone quiet. Today she’s wearing tight jeans and cowboy boots with her t-shirt tucked in so it’s stretched to reveal every one of her curves. Stiles has to wonder what the rest of the faculty makes of that. Most of the students are wide-eyed and mesmerized. Even Derek seems to be warming to her.

Stiles can’t help but be a little disappointed about that.

 

*******

 

For someone who doesn’t know the Stilinskis all that well, Derek's mother knows a lot about how Stiles’s mother died. Apparently she was very well-known in town and equally well-liked. She ran the small coffee shop on Baker Street, where there’s now a funeral home in its stead, and when she became sick she hung on for a long while. The whole town saw her deteriorate, all the while pretending that nothing was wrong until her behavior got too erratic and she had to first stay home and then be hospitalized.

Derek vaguely remembers the café, mainly because they also sold ice cream. After they closed down, the only ice cream to be had in town was at the mall and it didn’t taste nearly as good. He also remembers being jealous of the little boy who seemed to live there, sometimes busy in one of the booths with toys or drawing or homework when he got old enough for school but mostly pestering his  mother to be allowed to scoop the ice cream for the customers. Derek never associated that little boy with Stiles Stilinski when he finally started high school.

Of all the details his mother remembers the one he’s been thinking about the most is that when she died Stiles was alone with his mother. Everybody in town knows that. It was a talking point for a long time, seeming to make the tragedy of that lovely little family that much worse. Most folks think that it’s no wonder the kid turned out a little odd after that. Polite, yes, respectful, even, but definitely odd.

Derek wonders if that means Stiles is a kindred spirit. It’s no secret that people find him odd, too, since Paige died – _she didn’t just die, you killed her!_ Maybe that’s what happens to people who witness the death of someone they love, they turn odd, each in their own way. Maybe his new association with Stiles is strangely easy because of the similarities in their pasts. Whatever it is, Derek thinks Stiles isn’t so bad as long as he doesn’t get too close. He can’t do close right now, which leaves him with no option but to make new friends instead of going back to the ones he had. And with Stiles he’s at a comfortable level of intimacy or lack thereof for now. Quite comfortable.

He offers Stiles one of his tacos as a kind of peace offering. For whatever reason it was obvious that Stiles was upset about what happened yesterday and Derek doesn’t like upsetting people, not when they haven’t done anything to warrant it. So, yes, his dad’s food is always good for making friends or amends.

And then Stiles goes and talks about the full moon as if he’s in the know. Derek panics for a moment because he’s not entirely sure if Stiles can be trusted to keep such a secret. But how would he have found out about werewolves in the first place? Maybe his dad got involved somehow? Even after Stiles’s explanation he’s not convinced that Stiles doesn’t know something. He always looks a little like the cat that’s got the cream.

“We’re still pretending, right?...”

Derek's beginning to wish he’d never started this fake friendship business. It was stupid of him even if his mother took to Stiles like human catnip or maybe werewolf catnip. He only wants her to leave him alone, for a little while. But Laura? Or anyone else in his family for that matter? There’s no reason to pretend anything for their sake. It’s just that his mother is his alpha and not only is there a natural tendency on his part to submit to all her wishes, but she also needs to micromanage by default. It’s her job to know everything, decide everything, fix everything in the pack. He gets that. He just can’t right now.

“No.” Whatever he was thinking before, he’s done. Stiles is a person and he doesn’t deserve to be used like that. If Stiles doesn’t mind playing along, that makes it worse in a sense.

But Derek gets distracted by Miss Argent. She looks… _wow._ He takes a deep breath. It’s the full moon tonight. He’s used to feeling like this and he’s always conquered it before. It’s a Hale thing. They’re renowned for being able to control their shift like no other. There’s a barbecue every month to celebrate the fact that nobody shifted because they weren’t strong enough. It’s a longstanding tradition and he’s not going to be the one breaking it.

So when he approaches Miss Argent after the lesson like he’s drawn to her, he knows it’s a terrible idea – never make important decisions on the day of the full moon! He still does it. Even though Derek's been dawdling to let the other students leave first they still have to wait for Stiles _again_.

“Are you finished, Mr. Stilinski?”

Stiles looks up from repacking his bag then around the now empty classroom apparently surprised that there’s only the three of them left. “Just waiting for Derek.”

“Then please do so outside. Mr. Hale and I have something to discuss.”

Stiles mutters, “I bet,” under his breath so quietly that only Derek can hear it as he finally flounces out of the room. By that time Derek already has doubts again about what he’s doing but it’s too late now. He closes the classroom door because Stiles hasn’t moved far down the corridor and Derek really doesn’t want to be overheard for this.

“I’d like to take you up on your offer,” he says. “If it still stands.”

“Of course, it does. I’m glad you decided to accept my help. When do you want to start? I could fit you in today after school.”

“No,” he says a little too quickly. “No. I can’t today. We have a family thing.”

She tilts her head and smiles. “Really? How sweet that you still do what your family wants at your age. The weekend then?”

Derek feels instantly embarrassed. Spending Friday nights with his family makes him sound like a child. How can he explain that when he can’t mention werewolves or the full moon without sounding crazy? But he can’t really get away this weekend either. There’s a family gathering. His aunts and their families are expected and then there’s the barbecue on Sunday.

“I wouldn’t want you to give up your weekend, Miss. I could do Monday after school?”

“Don’t you have lacrosse practice?”

He feels incredibly pleased that she knows he made the team. It makes his decision to accept her help much easier. She obviously takes an interest and as a substitute teacher she has no obligation to show special attention to anyone, so it means more if she does. He’s glad he asked her because he’s well aware that he might not do it after the full moon when his emotions are more balanced. Something has to change. His mother is right about that and he knows it, too, despite his protestations otherwise.

“Yes, I do… I could maybe get away for a bit tomorrow lunchtime.”

“Sounds good. We should meet somewhere public to just have a chat. So you can get used to me and you can walk away if you’re uncomfortable. If we hit it off, we can move on to the actual counseling.”

She’s just so nice and so concerned about his well-being that he’s already convinced he can trust her. They agree to meet in the coffee shop near the mall and he smiles as he leaves the classroom.

Not far from the door, Stiles is leaning back with just his shoulders against the wall and his feet planted away from it by about a foot, his body arching, making his usual baggy clothes show off its contours for once and Derek can’t help but look at the bony angles. Stiles is altogether too skinny but right now with his head tilted a bit and looking at him from under his eyelashes he looks very enticing. Then he tries to push off the wall with his shoulders and doesn’t quite make it. So he slumps back against it before he pushes upright using both hands. Yeah, that’s just erased all traces of the probably oblivious seductiveness that emanated from him only seconds before with his more familiar dorkiness.

“You okay?” Stiles asks as he falls into step next to Derek.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Derek grouses. Jeez, the full moon is giving him the hots for his teacher and the school goofball at the same time. Wonderful!

“Because Miss Sexy Teacher’s singling you out and that’s not creepy at all.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know her.”

“And you’re on such intimate terms after what… a week?”

“What do you want, Stilinski?”

“Hey! Why the sudden hostility? You’re hurting my feelings. I’m wounded. Can’t you see how wounded I am?” He steps in front of Derek showing a smile with too much teeth and prancing backwards as he’s talking. “Aren’t we best buds? Pals? Chums? See, I’m chumming you to our next class.”

Predictably, walking backwards makes Stiles stumble and Derek's just in time to haul him upright by the arm. Stiles blushes and pokes his biceps a few times. “You’re really strong, man.”

“I know.” His dad told him to always downplay anything he does that might attract attention and the best way to do that is to pretend it’s normal. Never try and explain things away, just go with the flow and let Stiles think anybody could lift him from an almost fall back to vertical. Luckily they’ve reached their classroom, or rather Derek's classroom so all he has to do is point out to Stiles that they don’t actually share a class during this period.

Stiles’s flustered look has become unexpectedly endearing. “What? Oh shit. See you later.” And he’s dashing down the corridor narrowly avoiding pupils and teachers alike.

Derek smiles as he hears Finstock shout, “If you were that fast on the field, Bilinski, you’d make fist line.”

 

 

On Saturday Derek feels a whole lot better. The full moon was uneventful. They played some games, watched some movies and no one slipped up. His mother even took Cora outside to expose her to direct moonlight and seemed pleased with the result. These sessions are intensely private but when they go well the whole family is proud of the younger members. Cora is more highly-strung than Derek ever was but she’s female so overall she has better control.

He manages to slip away during the late morning by volunteering to do the shopping. However odd the rest of the family may find his sudden willingness to leave his room never mind the house by choice, they’re grateful because everybody hates shopping especially on a Saturday.

At first he can’t see Miss Argent when he enters the coffee shop but then he finds her tucked away in a booth at the back. He gets himself a drink and takes it over to her table, where she’s reading a book that looks really old. She immediately puts it away in her big bag when she sees him.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Miss Argent.” He slides onto the bench opposite.

“Well, I think if you and I want to make any progress, you need to call me by my first name.”

Derek blushes because doesn’t know if he can do that.

“Just outside school mind. I’m still your teacher.” She smiles and holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Kate. Pleased to meet you.”

He shakes her hand with an uncertain smile. “Hi. I’m Derek. Pleased to meet you, too.” Her handshake is a quick firm squeeze before she lets go with a huff. He likes her, he really does.

He has about an hour before he needs to go and actually do the shopping he’s supposedly doing right now. It seemed like a long time when he was planning this because he knew from the start that he wouldn’t be telling her anything just yet. But it passes very quickly as Kate talks about her travels. She’s been all over the country but also spent a long time in Europe, in France, where the Argents are originally from and still have family ties. They even speak French for a bit. It’s flattering how impressed she is that he speaks several languages.

Eventually he looks around – not knowing what made him do so – to find Stiles standing at the counter waiting for his coffee. Stiles grins and finger-guns at him and Derek gets up hastily. From where he’s standing, Stiles can’t see Miss Arg… Kate and Derek would like to keep it that way. He wouldn’t put it past Stiles to come over to speak to him. He’s become very attached very quickly.

“I have to go,” he says moving out of the booth.

“Okay,” Kate says. “How would you feel about meeting again?”

“I’d love to.” He’s a little distracted in his haste, eyes flickering to Stiles and back to her while he puts his jacket on. “But I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, we can discuss it in school.” She smiles up at him and seems a little confused at his hurry as well she might be.

Saying a quick goodbye he walks towards the door where Stiles catches up with him as expected. Derek knew he wouldn’t leave without talking to him.

“Are you on a date?” Stiles grins brightly. “Who’s the lucky lady? Or guy? I’m not judging.”

“Not a date.” Derek takes Stiles’s elbow and leads him on towards the door while he’s still craning his neck trying to catch a glimpse of who Derek was with.

In his effort to open the door with his shoulder, because he has his hands full with a muffin and his drink, Stiles half-turns and looks over Derek's shoulder. Then he stops dead in his tracks and Derek just knows that he’s seen Kate. Maybe she decided to get up to see the cause of his speedy retreat. He wishes she hadn’t done that. Stiles’s face freezes into a mask and Derek crowds him out the door with his body because they’re blocking the entrance.

“I take it back,” Stiles says coldly. “I _am_ judging you _so, so_ hard right now. And _her_. Dude!”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Derek defends himself astonished how much Stiles’s disapproval bothers him. But then he doesn’t know what else to say.

Eventually Stiles just shakes his head and walks away towards his Jeep without another word. He waves his arms around in an exasperated or frustrated gesture, spilling some of his drink in the process.

“Don’t call me dude!” Derek yells after him. _Great! Well done. Real mature, Hale._

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

**5**

 

For about half an hour Stiles listens patiently to Scott talking about the party at Danny’s house last night. He isn’t particularly interested – if he was, he would’ve gone – but it’s bro-time so he feigns paying attention to Scott’s lengthy account. Practically all of it concerns Allison, what she was wearing, what they talked about, how many times they danced, how many times they made out, how many times they danced _and_ made out, how she looked, smelled, smiled…

Stiles doesn’t mind so much because last week, while Dr Deaton was away for the day, Scott accepted a litter of abandoned kittens from some well-meaning citizen and now they have to be fed frequently. Stiles loves cats – and dogs – but unfortunately his dad won’t allow either. He thinks Stiles isn’t responsible enough for a dog and he’s allergic to cats.

Finally Scott stops talking and just sports a dreamy-eyed expression. Stiles can understand that Scott wants to spend all his time with Allison and Stiles will probably be exactly the same when Lydia finally discovers how awesome he is. But he’s getting a little fed up with having the time he has with Scott taken over by Allison as well when she’s not even here.

“And how was your dinner with the in-laws?” He barely saw Scott yesterday, so there was no opportunity to ask before now.

Scott groans. “Her dad’s _really_ scary. He practically gave me the third degree and I think he thinks I’m too soft. I was worried the whole time that he’d challenge me to a duel or something.”

“Well, he’s a gun dealer, so if he does, choose lightsabers or something. Something he’s not familiar with.”

“ _I’m_ not familiar with lightsabers. Anyway I just want them to like me.”

“But you want to bone Allison. And they know it.”

Scott looks horrified.

“Well, don’t you?”

“Eh… yes sure… but you make it sound so... dirty.”

“If sex isn’t dirty you’re doing it wrong.”

“I think you watch too much porn.”

Stiles nods his agreement with an unabashed grin.

“Anyway her mother is ten times scarier. She looked at me as if she was plotting how to dispose of my dead body where no one will ever find it. I’d rather duel with Mr. Argent than spend any time alone with her.”

Considering how intense Allison’s father was even from a distance her mother must be really something if Scott thinks she’s worse. “And was _Ms_ Argent there as well?”

Scott starts putting the kittens that have been fed back in the cage. “Yeah, that was weird, too. She and Allison are really close. Close in age as well. There’s like ten years between them so Allison says her aunt’s more like a big sister. And she was totally on our side. It would have been way worse without her there. It’s just weird to sit at the same table with your teacher. You get to know stuff about her that you shouldn’t.”

“Like what?”

“She drinks like a fish. And she’s a gun freak. And she’s teaching Allison archery. And she says stuff.”

“Like?” Stiles couldn’t say why he’s so interested. All he knows is that he doesn’t trust the woman although he can’t quite put his finger on any reason for that.

“I don’t know. You know when you talk to people and even though they don’t say anything outright, you still get a strange feeling? She seems… I don’t know… like she could really go off on someone and not just shouting, I mean physically. And without remorse. I don’t know… Allison loves her to bits so maybe I’m wrong. She was really nice to me. So I’m probably imagining things.”

Stiles thinks that for once Scott is right on the money. And if Scott, who likes to think the best of everyone and gives people the benefit way beyond reasonable doubt, thinks there’s something strange about Kate Argent then it must be true. They’re just lucky that she’s only here for a few weeks. How much damage can she really do in that time?

When Allison turns up a couple of hours later, Stiles decides to let them enjoy being alone at the vet’s despite their, somewhat half-hearted, assurances that he’s welcome to stay. Even though he’s new to it, he’s got this wingman business down to a fine art. Up to now Scott has never shown much interest in anyone, besides a general ‘she’s hot’ kind of attention. Love at first sight, first love and first relationship – Stiles can’t help but think that Scott’s won the jackpot.

On the way home he stops at the coffee shop and after he’s ordered his needlessly complicated drink and tried to convey his name to the barista – “like Harry Styles but with an I” usually comes back as _Harri Stiles_  – he looks around to check if he knows anyone. A shock of black hair in one of the booths at the back makes him think of Derek and he’s surprised about that only for a few moments. Then the guy gets up and it _is_ Derek. So Stiles’s brain had a reason to go there, a totally legitimate and rational reason.

He grins and finger-guns, before noticing that Derek is obviously not alone because he’s talking to someone who’s completely obscured by the back of the bench. _Hhm, interesting._ This calls for a closer investigation. Stiles isn’t nosy, not at all, he just likes to be well-informed for his own peace of mind.

Unfortunately Derek prevents him from walking over there and finding out by coming to the door and pulling Stiles along with him in no uncertain terms. The fact that he obviously doesn’t want Stiles to know whom he was meeting with makes Stiles even more intrigued and he starts asking questions immediately. If Derek wants to keep this on the down low then maybe it’s because he’s meeting a guy. Somehow the thought is kind of sweet although Stiles can’t work out why that should be the case. What difference does it make?

He’s balancing his coffee in one hand and the other is holding his muffin, so he pushes against the door with his back, still grinning at Derek, who looks uncomfortably caught out. And then the person Derek was talking to gets up and Stiles recognizes her even before she completely turns around to look back at Derek. Everything in him freezes and for a few seconds he’s unable to move or even speak.

Derek practically manhandles him out the door and out of the way of any potential customers. He’s flushed pink and looks at Stiles with a mixture of horror and something akin to guilt or embarrassment.

When Stiles finally finds his voice he tells Derek how much he disapproves. The old _‘it’s not what it looks like’_ almost makes him laugh but not quite, especially since Derek is then unable or unwilling to explain what it actual _is_ instead. It’s not in Stiles’s nature to be patient so does the only thing he can do: he walks away in his exasperation. If he doesn’t he might say something he’ll regret either to Derek or, worse, to Kate Argent. When he’s near his car, Derek yells something inane and irrelevant at his back.

Stiles tries to just forget about it, he really does. He goes home, he boots up his computer and he plays a game. But neither his heart nor his mind are in it. After he died a few times he switches to Solitaire, so he doesn’t have to pay attention while he’s playing.

For the most part he’s disappointed. He thought Derek was smarter than that. Just because a good-looking woman is hitting on you, you don’t have to take her up on it. Besides Stiles got the impression that Derek wasn’t quite over Paige yet. With that in mind he wouldn’t recommend Derek going on a date with anyone, but with _Sexy Teacher_? That’s definitely a bad idea.

Oh God, what if Derek's doing a Scott and is smitten with the woman beyond all reason? Somehow that makes Stiles’s stomach turn. But why would he even care? Up until about a week ago he only knew Derek in passing. Why does it matter to him what Derek does? _Because it’s plain wrong._ Is that all it is? It must be. His sense of right and wrong feels violated in the extreme and he’s not good with sitting back and minding his own business.

How can he put a stop to this? Going to his dad would be the easiest solution. His dad could then warn Kate off and tell her in his inimitable way that he’s keeping an eye on her. But Stiles can’t do that without dropping Derek in it as well, even if he’s the victim here. Friends don’t do that. There must be a better way.

He really, really hopes that Derek isn’t quite as far gone as Scott is and will listen to either reason or outright threats. The good old _I’m telling on you_ has worked wonders since kindergarten.

 

 

The next day he’s driving to the Hale house with his dad in the passenger seat of his Jeep. This way his dad can have a drink or two. Stiles has been preoccupied with his determination to save Derek from his own stupidity. He also knows that Ms Argent saw him at the coffee shop and kind of hopes if that will be enough to make her back off. Then he won't have to take drastic measures that might endanger a friendship that's surprisingly dear to him for being so fresh. On the other hand if they met in a public place, surely she must have taken into account that they might be spotted.

“What’s on your mind, son?” his dad asks gently. “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet this weekend.”

Stiles shrugs. “I’ve gotten to know Derek a bit better and I’m wondering… what do _you_ think happened to Paige?”

The sheriff huffs a laugh. “Nice try, but if I didn’t tell you last year when it happened, what makes you think I’ll tell you now?”

“You were obviously not content with the mountain lion theory. So what do you think was it?”

His dad narrows his eyes. “What makes you think I wasn’t content with the mountain lion theory?”

“I just know you too well. I can read between the lines.”

“Between the lines of what exactly? Did you read my report? How? I deliberately misfiled that report so thoroughly that even you wouldn’t find it.”

“Oh Dad. I love how you still think I’m snooping in your actual files. It’s cute but it's the internet. I just read the file online.”

“How? Do you know the password to my laptop?”

“Of course. I know all your passwords. And all your PIN numbers. How else can I keep up with you?”

His dad rubs a hand over his face. “Well, I’ll just have to change all of those when I get home. You could get me fired and you know it.”

Instantly feeling guilty Stiles mutters, “Only if anyone finds out. I’m not stupid.”

“Son…” his dad starts tiredly and then looks out the window before finally saying, “Anyway I won’t talk to you about Paige Krasikeva because you knew her. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

Stiles didn’t expect anything else but it’s still bothering him. He knows just from the way his father worded his report that he had doubts, but no proof to back it up and was hoping it would make him more willing to talk about the case. Sometimes they actually talk through tough cases, albeit without mentioning any names, because it helps his dad to get them more clearly in his mind. But obviously the fact that Stiles and Paige went to the same school and were in the same year makes that impossible. Stiles really doesn’t want to have to ask Derek.

There are a lot of cars parked outside the Hale residence. This ‘informal’ barbecue seems a lot bigger than expected. However, as soon as Stiles stops the car, Mr. Hale comes out of the house to greet them.

“Nice to see you again, Stiles. I’m glad you decided to come. Pleased to see you, too, Sheriff.”

His dad shakes hands with their host. “Please call me John. I'm not on duty.”

Mr. Hale frowns. “Gladly but I must admit I’m a little confused. I thought your name was Noah?”

“John’s his middle name,” Stiles pipes up. “He hates Noah.” Only his grandfather used to call his father by his first name and after everything that went down between them it’s no wonder he doesn’t like hearing it anymore. Stiles isn’t privy to all the details and this is one case where he doesn’t want to know.  He can’t bear to think of his dad being mistreated even if it was decades ago.

His dad huffs a laugh. “What my son said.”

Mr. Hale smiles first at Stiles then at his dad and says, “John it is then. I’m Duncan. Come round the back and have a drink.”

Before they can make a move, Cora and Olivia arrive and each of them grabs one of Stiles’s hands pulling him towards a blanket where another three girls are already seated. “You need to be our judge,” Cora says. “We’re having a spelling competition.”

“Okay,” Stiles chuckles sinking down to sit on the ground with folded legs. “And who are these lovely ladies?”

The girls giggle and Olivia informs him that these are their younger cousins Paula and Marcia and Daria, who are twins. The latter information is obvious from how similar they look. By Stiles’s estimation they must be about a year or two younger than Olivia, while Paula can be no older than five and is coloring in a book rather than playing with the others. So far Derek is the only male in this generation of the Hale family.

Stiles has always wondered what it would have been like to have siblings. Granted he and Scott are almost brothers but they didn’t grow up together because they didn’t meet until middle school. Nevertheless they’ve spent almost as much time together since then as siblings would because after his dad and Mrs. McCall became single parents, they often babysat each other’s kid. If they were both on duty at the same time, they paid for one babysitter to look after Stiles and Scott together.

But Stiles doesn’t know what it’s like to have older or younger siblings. Would he be as happy to be roped into their games, if Cora and Olivia were his sisters? Probably not. Nobody appreciates what they’ve got. Right now he’s only too happy to oblige even when the spelling competition, which was never terribly fair on the cousins, ends and the make-up party begins. He simply holds still while four pairs of hands try to beautify him.

By the time Derek comes to help him make his getaway, he’s so absorbed with the oh so serious conversations he’s having that he forgets for a bit that he was either going to avoid Derek or talk to him about bad touching from older women. Instead he follows him happily into the bathroom where he becomes aware for the first time how ridiculous he looks. Great, he’s _so_ good at making good impressions and he’s grateful that Derek led him through the almost deserted house away from the crowd in the garden.

 

*******

 

For the last twenty-four hours Derek’s been unable to decide whether he wants Stiles to turn up for his family’s barbecue or not. Apart from being somewhat embarrassing, their encounter in the coffee shop is also not something Derek would like broadcast to his family. How would he explain his meeting with Kate?

When he sees the Stilinskis arrive from his bedroom window though, he’s glad he won’t be alone for the afternoon. His family is alright, even good fun a lot of the time, and  he loves them but his cousins are all younger than even Olivia and his aunts and uncle barely accept Laura and Peter as adults so Derek is often banished to the kids’ table, metaphorically speaking.

However, he doesn’t dash downstairs to greet Stiles, just watches him get welcomed by his dad and then claimed by Olivia and Cora for whatever they’re doing on their blanket on the grass. It looks like they’re playing school with their younger cousins.

“Your boyfriend’s here,” Peter says, as he walks past Derek's closed door knowing that Derek can hear him regardless.

And just like that Derek loses all interest in the barbecue. His uncle’s always been annoying and doing his best to keep it that way, but there will also be his aunts – both of them much closer in age to his mother – who will tiptoe around Derek like he’s an invalid or just one step removed from a nervous breakdown. And his other uncle will only talk about safe subjects, like sports and school, neither of which Derek has much of an interest in right now.

Eventually his mother calls him down. With a sigh he puts his book away and goes downstairs finding her in the kitchen, where she pushes a large basket with hot dog rolls into his hands. “Go and rescue Stiles from the girls.”

He nods and deposits the basket on the large wooden table outside. Then he ambles over to the blankets, where playing school has turned into playing beauty salon. His cousins must have brought the make-up because neither his mother nor his three sisters wear any. And it shows. Stiles has lipstick smeared in a grotesque circle around his lips, two different colors of eye shadow that make it obvious he’s lucky to have retained his eyesight and a round blob of too bright rouge on each cheekbone.

“What do you think?” Stiles asks unselfconsciously, grinning widely.

“Very fetching,” Derek says, fending off his three cousins, who are crowding around his legs to hug him. He throws each of them into the air a few times making them squeal. It’s the only way to get rid of them.

“You can’t have Stiles,” Olivia says in her most serious voice. “He’s our model.”

“Well, you have to do without him. Mom asked me to get him.”

Stiles gets up immediately, gives a bow towards the girls and says, “Ladies, it’s been a pleasure.” They giggle uncontrollably.

In the upstairs bathroom Derek hands him a washcloth. Apparently make-up is more or less water-proof and requires a good scrub. Stiles has to rub really hard and looks decidedly flushed in the end. Derek swallows involuntarily and throws out a self-consciously casual _you missed a bit,_ which causes the wet washcloth to fly towards his face. He catches it without effort much to Stiles’s chagrin.

In the kitchen his mother greets Stiles like a long-lost friend thanking him for visiting and for bringing his father. “You know, I almost didn’t recognize your dad with his clothes on.”

Stiles, who was in the process of taking a drink from the soda can Derek handed him, chokes on his sip. His huge eyes stare at her, while he’s coughing and wheezing for breath.

Derek pats his back a little too hard, pushing him a step or two forwards. Then he looks at his mom wondering if she meant to say that and if she didn’t, what the hell’s going on.

“Are you alright?” she asks Stiles solicitously. “I think that sounded a little differently in my head. I meant I almost didn’t recognize him with his _civilian_ clothes on. I’ve only ever seen him in uniform before.”

Stiles gives a few more shallow coughs and says in a croaky voice, “Thanks for clearing that up. Although that would have been an interesting conversation on the way home.”

“I bet.” She laughs and hands Stiles a plate to carry outside.

Derek takes one as well and trails Stiles into the garden. It’s been a long time since he has wished to be back to his former socially functioning self and watching his family with Stiles definitely makes him want to somehow be more like that again. It doesn't help that he also knows that his biggest ordeal of the day is yet to come.

He introduces Stiles to the adult members of the family, two aunts and an uncle. He likes Aunt Cara the best. She’s the cool aunt, who’s carefree and irreverent, bringing up the twins single-handedly and seemingly without effort, turning them into miniatures of herself. Well, who wouldn’t want to emulate a mother like that?

Then there’s a bunch of family friends, whom he skips because they’re of no interest to Stiles. Even with his family it's debatable how interested Stiles could possibly be, but it's a habit to make the other members aware of the people on the periphery of the pack. Despite his effort to avoid it as long as possible, they inevitably arrive at the sheriff, who’s in conversation with his dad. Stiles takes his turn to make the wholly unnecessary introductions. “This is my dad. Dad, this is Derek.”

“I know,” the sheriff says and Derek feels his scrutinizing gaze. “How are you, Derek? It’s nice to see you again.”

“Eh, you, too,” Derek mumbles nowhere near as casually as Stiles treats his family. The memory of that afternoon in his mother’s office, when the sheriff, in the nicest possible way, asked him about his relationship with Paige is vivid in his mind. He lied that day, said he was with his parents when Paige died, just like his mother had instructed and it went just as smoothly as she’d said it would. But he’d hated lying when the sheriff was so careful and gentle with him. It had only added to his guilty conscience. So now he finds it difficult to look the man in the eye.

“You two know each other?” Stiles asks, looking from his dad to Derek and back. “Why do I only hear about it now? Did you arrest him? What did he do? Can I guess?”

“Stiles,” Mr. Stilinski says warningly although for a few moments it seems to have no effect on his exuberant son, who’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Then the penny apparently drops like a lead weight because Stiles blushes and looks at Derek apologetically.

Derek says, “Excuse me,” to no one in particular and tries to retreat to the house to avoid any questions or worse: pitying looks.

It's not entirely surprising that Stiles doesn’t give him a chance. After a quiet _you could have told me_ to his dad, he catches up with Derek and starts chatting about the weather. Derek looks at him as if he’s lost his mind but stops walking because he doesn’t want Stiles to follow him to his room.

Stiles stops as well, his expression suddenly serious. “Hey, I didn’t know, okay? If I’d thought about it properly, I would have realized that the cops probably talked to you after Paige died, with you being the boyfriend and all. But I didn’t… _think_ that is, I didn’t _think_. Which is normal for me or rather I think a lot but I can’t always stop it from coming out my mouth before it’s properly percolated.”

It’s not that Derek’s upset that Stiles found out he was interviewed by the police. Like he said, he could have worked that out by himself. However, the sheriff is still a reminder of what happened and he can’t help but wonder if his mother is doing these things on purpose. Did she invite the Stilinskis so that Derek would have to face the sheriff? She’s a great believer in tackling problems head-on.

But right now he’s stuck on something else, something Stiles said like it’s the most natural thing in the world: _after Paige died_. Is this really the first time anybody has phrased it like that in his presence? Everyone else always uses euphemisms like _what happened last summer_ , _what you experienced_ or simply _the incident_. Is it possible that Stiles is the only person who doesn’t think he will have a breakdown if he calls it by its proper name?

Stiles’s explanation has petered out and he’s looking concerned. “You okay, dude?”

Derek suddenly appreciates Stiles being here a whole lot more. He smiles. “Yeah, I am. And I really hate being called dude.”

Stiles grins. “Good to know. Let’s hit the barbecue, shall we?” There’s a slight pause, followed by, “Dude.”

They end up in the tree house with several plates of food. Derek hasn’t been up here for an age. It was a project he did with his father and Laura when Olivia was a baby. His dad, who’s been working from home since Laura was born and home-schooled all of them to high school years, felt that the older children needed something for themselves.

It’s very well-designed and intricate – his dad is an architect after all – with a wide bench running around the walls and openings at head height when you’re sitting down. There’s also a folding table in the middle and shutters for the windows against the weather. Derek and Peter took it over soon after completion and Derek smoked his first and only cigarette in here, drank his first alcohol and looked at his first porn. All of it seemed really exciting at the time, especially with Peter talking it up but when he tells Stiles about it now, it just seem silly and pointless. It was truly rebelling without any cause whatsoever because his parents wouldn’t have stopped him from doing any of that if they’d known. Or maybe they had known and just let them get on with it.

Stiles loves the house. He talks about his own tree house, which is in Scott McCall’s back garden and consists mainly of a platform, from which Stiles fell no less than four times in the first year alone. “I only broke something twice though,” he announces proudly. “You ever break any bones?”

“Several,” Derek says truthfully before he realizes that him breaking a bone is very different from Stiles breaking one. Being here is lulling his senses. These barbecues are almost always family affairs with the addition of some friends – werewolf friends or friends who know. For a moment he forgot that Stiles has no idea about that. “Long time ago,” he says casually. “I got less clumsy as I got older.” And more wary of Peter because literally all his breaks were caused by his uncle ‘trying to teach him to be better’.

“Lucky you,” Stiles sighs. “Clumsy is pretty much my middle name.” He guzzles down one of the sodas and after they’ve eaten in silence for a while, he says, “So are we going to talk about yesterday?”

Derek feels his heart stop and he looks out of the glassless window to check that there’s no one in the vicinity. “Not here,” he says.

“We’re at the top of a tree, man. I think we’d notice if someone was dropping any eaves.”

“Keep it secret. Keep it safe.” Derek hopes he can stop Stiles from talking without having to invent a reason why. He can hardly tell him that his family could hear them from where they’re sitting over by the house if they felt so inclined.

Stiles grins delightedly. “Nice catch. Please, tell me you’ve seen Star Wars as well.”

“Yes, the force is strong with me. Hasn’t everyone seen Star Wars?”

“Scott hasn’t.”

“What a philistine!” Derek's trying hard to keep the conversation going in this direction.

“Yeah, but don’t call him that. He’d have to go and look it up.”

“Isn’t he your best friend?”

“Best - totally. Smartest - not so much.” Stiles smiles for a moment as he’s thinking about McCall and Derek wonders if anyone of _his_ friends ever smiled so fondly when thinking about him. Then Stiles looks him in the eye. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re changing the subject on me.”

Having no idea how to stop Stiles from talking, Derek remembers that last time honesty worked best. “I don’t want to talk about it here. Maybe in school or something.”

Stiles looks at him for a while, squinting his eyes as if he’s trying to work something out. Then he finger-guns him. “Gotcha. But if you’re hoping I’ll forget about it, you have another think coming.”

Yes, Derek assumed as much. Another look out the window towards his noisy family ends up with meeting Peter’s eyes. His uncle has that slight smirk on his face that used to fool Derek into thinking he was cool and knew what he was doing.

Now it just confirms that he was right to be cautious; Peter _was_ listening.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

**6**

 

“Dad?”

“Hhm?”

Stiles sits down at the kitchen table and smiles a little when his dad shuffles his papers out of the way as if that’s any deterrent for his son’s prying eyes. Then he becomes serious because after watching the extended Hale family at the barbecue he’s spent the night thinking about the question he’s going to ask. “Why did you and mom have only me?”

“What? What brought this on?”

 _Ah, a deflection, never a good sign._ It more or less confirms Stiles’s suspicion already: that his parents found him such a handful they didn’t think they could cope with another child.

“I kinda enjoyed the barbecue yesterday. There were a lot of people.”

His dad smiles, twisting his body a little to face Stiles properly, his serious _I’m giving you my full attention_ posture. “I did, too. The Hales certainly are a lively bunch… Now, you know that neither your mother nor I had any siblings and, yes, we both wanted a large family. You were meant to be the first of at least three, if not more.” He stops for a moment to pull himself away from the abyss that thinking about the past always opens for him. His hand involuntarily wipes over his face but after a deep breath he looks at Stiles and his voice is steady. “Your mother’s illness didn’t come on suddenly. There were early warning signs and she wanted to get better before we’d have more children. And then when we finally got a diagnosis, it was out of the question.”

“Because I was hard work.”

“What? No, Stiles. I don’t want you to ever think that. You made both of us very happy. Half a dozen just like you would have made us very happy, too. It had nothing whatsoever to do with you. But your mother knew she wouldn’t be able to look after you for many more years and she didn’t want to make life harder for you and me than it already would be. Kids are wonderful but there’s only so much time in the day and being a single parent is hard work even with the easiest child. Just ask Melissa.”

Stiles is already regretting that he ever started this conversation. These heart-to-hearts with his dad always make him feel melancholy. “We did alright though, didn’t we?” His voice sounds small to his own ears.

“We did alright, son,” his dad agrees. “And you turned out great. Which no doubt all your teachers will confirm at the parent-teacher conference tomorrow, right?”

Stiles pulls a face although he’s grateful for the lightening of the tone. “Maybe. They don’t always have the same good taste and appreciation that you have. You may want to mentally prepare yourself for that particular shortcoming on my teachers’ part.”

“Great. I look forward to it. And shouldn’t you be on your way to school? Get out of here already.”

Stiles eagerly complies with his father’s suggestion before this becomes either too emotional or turns into a discussion about his school performance.

 

 

Today feels good. His weekend was fun despite hardly seeing Scott because somehow Derek neatly stepped into the space Scott left open, which is surprising given Derek's unsocial behavior over the past few months. Maybe Stiles just caught him at a point where he’s ready to have friends again after he lost all his old ones when Paige died. There may not be the comfortable familiarity he has with Scott but Stiles can sense that it’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship. At least he hopes so because Derek's awesome.

In addition to the enjoyable weekend, his dad’s words this morning make him smile all day and to top it all off, he receives his Chemistry report about the crystal back with an A and also with the report from last week attached – the B **-** having been changed to an A **-**. He can’t help but gloat at Harris when he sees it.

Derek gives him a ‘friendly’ shove towards the door that nearly topples him over. “Jeez, do you have to provoke the guy at every opportunity?”

“Not _every_ opportunity. Just, like, ninety-nine percent of them.”

“And that would be the reason you get marked down in his class,” Derek says walking purposefully down the corridor. “You _are_ aware that we only got a better grade so easily because it’s parents’ evening this week, right? Harris just doesn’t want any hassle.”

“Is your mother gonna say anything to him?” Stiles has to take long strides to keep up with Derek.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t know about this little incident and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Ah, yes, I remember: you like your secrets. Just like your little tête-à-tête with…”

Derek grabs Stiles by the upper arm and pulls him through the front doors onto the almost deserted steps.

“OuchOuchOuchOuchOuch…” Stiles whines theatrically until he’s let go and proceeds to vigorously rub his arm. “There’s no need to become violent. I think you left bruises. I bruise very easily. I have delicate skin. See?” He pushes up his sleeve to show off completely unmarked skin dotted with moles.

“Yes, you’re a delicate flower,” Derek grunts and doesn’t even look. “Now can we agree on laying off Harris for the rest of the year?”

“Maybe,” Stiles says still looking at his arm expecting Derek's handprint to pop up any second now. Then he resolutely pulls down his sleeve. “But only if you tell me what your coffee date with _she who must not be named_ was about.”

Derek sighs and looks around. There are a couple of guys sitting on the bottom step and he juts his head to the lawn and stalks over there to sit further away from them. Stiles thinks it’s a completely unnecessary maybe even paranoid precaution but follows him anyway and lets himself sink down next to him.

“She’s a counselor. She’s counseling me.”

Stiles laughs, then sobers when Derek doesn’t join in. “On what exactly? The birds and the bees?”

“You have sex on the brain, man. Why is it so hard to believe that she’s just trying to help?”

It’s true. He does think about sex a lot but he’s a teenager, so sue him. The other thing that Derek said makes him think though. He opens his mouth to answer then shuts it again. What is it about Kate Argent that makes him so uneasy? She hasn’t done or even said anything overtly inappropriate. And yet there’s something about her that makes him want to physically drag Derek away from her every time he sees them together.

“I don’t trust her,” he says lamely in the end.

“You don’t know her.” Derek rummages for his lunchbox and offers Stiles a sandwich.

“You know that I know that you know that I can totally be bribed with food, right?”

“Eh, yeah?”

“So you know that I know that you’re just giving me this…” Stiles lifts the top slice of bread and looks at the filling with resignation, “…delicious masterpiece of leftover barbecue with all the trimmings to stop me from talking, right?”

Derek nods with a smile. “Totally.”

“Just checking.” Stiles takes at large bite and for a few moments everything is quiet. Just before he sinks his teeth into the bread again, however, he says with faux nonchalance, “If everything’s above board with this counseling, then how come you don’t want your family to know?”

 

 

The next day after first period, Lydia, yes, the one and only Lydia Martin, undisputed queen of Beacon Hills High, comes up to him and asks, “Do you know where Allison is?” As if they’re on habitual speaking terms or she addresses him every day.

For a few moments he can only gape, trying to process this momentous occasion. Then he opens his mouth to do what he does best: word-vomit. “She’s most likely with Scott, since they’re practically attached at the hips. Not that I’m implying anything by that. It’s just an expression. They could be attached at any other body part. Or not at all. Not at all would be good, too. But I would still suggest that they’re most likely in the same general vicinity.” He knows Scott’s in school because he spoke to him this morning before class.

Lydia frowns and it’s really cute. “Do. You. Know. Where. They. Are?” she then says slowly, enunciating every word.

“I can locate Scott,” Stiles says confidently, pulling out his cell phone and punching the number two button on his speed dial. It goes straight to voice mail.

Lydia huffs and sashays away.

“I’ll let you know when I find her,” he calls after her. If Lydia is now talking to him, he’ll do his utmost to keep the conversation going.

That turns out easier said than done. Scott's nowhere to be found all day and neither is Allison. Stiles leaves an excessive amount of voicemails on Scott’s phone but the fact that Allison isn’t here either convinces him that Scott’s not sick or in trouble but simply playing hokey. Only there’s no ‘simply’ about it. Never in his life has Scott been absent from school when he wasn’t sick or otherwise excused. Stiles should know because he’s tried to persuade him often enough.

He doesn’t really start to worry about it until after school. Scott’s bike is still chained up outside. When he swings by the McCall house, he finds it empty, because Mrs. McCall is working a dayshift so she can go to the school in the evening. He lets himself in, making a lot of noise in case Scott and Allison are doing the dirty in his bedroom, but there’s no one home.

When his father sets out for the school in the evening, Stiles decides to follow him there. Scott’s bike is still where it’s been all day and Stiles wonders if he should say something to his dad about it if he can’t get hold of Scott by the time his father comes back out. He doesn’t want to get his best friend into trouble but he knows that both his father and Scott’s mother often assume that their sons are together which, granted, is usually true. So if anything happened to Scott there’s a good chance it will be a while before he’s missed and then it will be Stiles’s fault if Scott’s dying in a ditch somewhere.

“Please, don’t be dead,” he mutters as he tries to phone again. Voicemail _again_. He doesn’t even bother to leave one anymore since Scott has yet to answer any of them. It’s dark now, especially where he’s parked at the very edge of the school parking lot. He watches the other parents as they move in and out of the school. They all arrive with an expression of apprehension and some leave in an even worse state. God, he hopes his dad won’t be too disappointed.

It takes well over two hours until his father comes out and then a few things happen at once. Scott and Allison turn up – together, of course – and Stiles is relieved on the one hand and thinks this is a really bad idea on the other. Mrs. McCall arrives almost at the same time and without seeing her son, she runs into Mr. Argent and a lady who must be Mrs. Argent coming out of the school as she’s going in. Their conversation doesn’t go well, that much is obvious even from a distance, and it isn’t helped by Scott and Allison joining their parents while holding hands like babes in the woods.

Then Stiles hears a growl and sees the shadow of a large animal to his left. He reels back even in the safety of his car because he has a healthy respect for any creature that’s faster than him and has bigger teeth. Other people have now noticed it as well and there’s shouting and running and the animal, a mountain lion by the looks of it, follows its natural instinct to chase, not running yet but prowling towards them.

Stiles is soon the only person behind the animal. He can see Mr. Argent sprint to his SUV to bring out a truly impressive rifle and also how his father bends down, most likely to draw his backup gun that he carries in an ankle holster, but it makes him impossible to see for the driver in the car next to him. A moment later he’s knocked over and the bastard who hit him doesn’t even stop but drives off.

Stiles’s heart stops when he sees his dad just lying there. Mr. Argent takes aim with his gun, shouting for people to get out of the way. Stiles doesn’t care about the mountain lion or people waving oversized guns about because _that’s his dad on the ground!_ He’s out of his car and running at full speed towards the school entrance. Everything seems to go into slow motion like it does in bad dreams.

A shot booms loudly, followed by Mr. Argent angrily shouting at one of the other parents, who prevented him from hitting anything by knocking the barrel of his weapon into the air just before it went off. Scott is pulling Allison out of the way of another reversing car. People are still running either towards the school or their cars. Stiles can see the mountain lion turning tail at the mayhem and making straight for him. _Oh shit!_ He hopes that if somebody tries to shoot it now they really know what they’re doing because otherwise they’re likely to hit him.

And then Derek Hale steps out from between the cars. He’s behind the animal from Stiles’s perspective but closer to it than anyone else barely five feet from its tail. Stiles can hear a loud growl, this one somehow fiercer and scarier than the ones before. The mountain lion half-turns as if to look at Derek and then streaks away at full speed, angling away from Stiles completely. Without stopping or even thinking, Stiles runs on and comes to a skidding halt next to his dad, who’s now standing up with his gun in his hand, although it’s pointing at the ground.

He throws his arms around his father in relief. “Thank god, you’re okay.”

“Stiles, gun!” his dad says warningly but he briefly returns his hug with his free arm. Then he walks up to Derek, followed closely by Stiles. “Where did it go?”

“Into the woods,” Derek says calmly as if he didn’t just step into the path of a dangerous animal. “I doubt it’ll come back.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. I was just looking to see what was going on. Must have spooked it.”

Mr. Argent has caught up to them by now, looking at Derek askance. But his anger is nothing compared to Stiles’s father. “I will see you in my office tomorrow morning,” he says to Mr. Argent. “You will provide me with your gun license and you and I will have a chat about how to handle them.”

“I’m a hunter, sheriff. I have a license to carry and even a license to trade. Believe me, I know what I’m doing.”

“And yet what you _were_ doing was discharging a weapon in a place crowded with people, endangering everyone’s life. I _will_ see you in my office tomorrow morning. You either turn up voluntarily or I’ll send a squad car to collect you. For now I want you to take that rifle, make it safe and go home. Have I made myself clear?”

Argent looks like he wants to retort but then he just gives a nod that could be an affirmative or simply a goodbye and walks away towards his car where he’s joined by his wife and daughter, who are both very subdued. Stiles doesn’t envy Allison because her parents look angry and downright frightening.

His dad puts his own gun back in the holster murmuring something about trigger-happy gun fetishists. Stiles is starting to shake now, a delayed reaction to his fear for his father and his own life. For the next hour and a half he and his dad sit in the cruiser until the last person has left the school. Stiles explains what he’s doing here and what happened from his point of view and inspects the large bruise that’s forming on his dad’s arm and shoulder. He silently adds cars to the list of dangers he should worry about. Seems mundane considering his father is a cop but then again so is high cholesterol. It just goes to show that he can never be too vigilant. He silently endures a long lecture about how to behave when there are wild animals about or men with guns. And yet he knows that given a situation where his dad’s in danger he will always throw caution to the wind. His dad probably knows it, too.

When they get home, he doesn’t fall asleep until the early hours of the morning. It’s the adrenaline. It’s making him wide awake and going over everything that happened in his head, over and over on a loop. His dad getting hit by a car… the mountain lion… the gunshot… and Derek coming out of the shadow right behind the animal. Then everything resets and he sees this detail more clearly or that one.

Sleep when it finally comes, brings the anticipated nightmares. First his dad gets killed in various ways, by the car, by Mr. Argent’s rifle, by the mountain lion, while Stiles can’t move somehow although he’s running as hard as he can. Then it’s Derek's turn but Derek appears to be bulletproof, easily steps out of the way of speeding cars and the mountain lion is scared of him. When the mountain lion attacks Stiles clawing out nothing but his eyes, Stiles wakes up screaming.

 

*******

 

Derek nearly chokes on his sandwich. Of course, Stiles would hone in like a bloodhound on the clandestine nature of his dealings with Kate. They met in a public place but he’s very aware that he chose a time and place where he could be reasonably sure that his family wouldn’t see him.

“It’s because of my mom,” he says finally. “She’s been going on at me about seeing someone but I don’t want to see the guy she decided on.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a family friend. I'd run into him all the time afterwards and it would be just weird. Plus he’d probably tell my mom everything I say.”

“Not if he wants to keep his license.”

Derek just shrugs. He can’t tell Stiles that the guy's a werewolf who will always defer to an alpha even an alpha from a different pack. He would consider it completely within his mother’s rights to know everything that goes on in her pack.

“Well, I can tell you from experience that there’s no point going to therapy if there’s no trust.”

“You’ve been to therapy?”

Stiles nods. “After my mom died. I had panic attacks. Still get them sometimes but not so much now.”

“So it helps?”

“Nah, I’m still as fucked-up as the next guy. Helped my dad though. He was worried. So I played along.”

Derek listens as Stiles talks about his therapy. He’s the first person he knows who’s been there and is willing to share. Stiles’s account is mainly anecdotal, weird things the therapist wanted him to do and funny retorts Stiles gave to serious questions. But between the lines there’s an unspoken acknowledgement that the whole ordeal was necessary and helpful. Stiles doesn’t outright recommend it, but it’s implied. It’s very clear that Stiles’s objections are not to the counseling as such but the counselor. Paradoxically this only encourages Derek to go through with it.

 

 

The next evening his mother has to attend a function and his father accompanies her as he usually does. Derek volunteers to pick them up in the car because part of the social etiquette on these occasions is drinking with other people. Despite not being able to get drunk it would look bad if either of them then got behind the wheel. They would both pass a breathalyzer test but that would then look very much like a cover-up considering his mother is the county judge. And it would be even worse if anyone were to believe that they’re under the legal limit after all that drinking because then the question would arise how that's possible.

Derek likes the drive by himself and doesn’t mind reading a book while he’s waiting outside for them to come out. This way he’s left to his own devices and gets to drive. He’s really looking forward to having his own car. Today he drives his parents from the town hall straight to the school for the parent evening.

“Are you coming in?” his dad asks, as they’re getting out.

“Nah, I’ll just wait here.”

They both smile at him and his mother hooks her hand in his father’s elbow. Watching them walk into the school Derek decides that even without their evening finery they would be the most stunning couple here. And what is more: he’d bet any money that they’re also the happiest. If one day he can claw his way back to being half as happy with someone as his parents are with each other, then he’ll be more than content.

A few minutes later he sees the sheriff arrive and shortly after that Stiles pulls into the parking lot, drives to the furthest corner and parks there. Neither of the Stilinskis notices him. For a few minutes he contemplates going over to Stiles and waiting in the Jeep with him but he can’t think of a reason why Stiles wouldn’t arrive with his dad so he leaves him to whatever he’s doing.

Scott McCall and his girlfriend turn up holding hands. It seems incredibly stupid to show your face at the parent evening when you’ve been absent from school all day, but McCall has never been the sharpest tool in the box. He and Allison walk over to three parents already embroiled in an argument on the school steps. Well, that looks like fun.

Then he gets distracted by a growl. Living in the forest has given him an appreciation and some knowledge about the wildlife. That’s a cougar. It becomes clear very quickly that he isn’t the only one who’s noticed. The parking lot erupts into panic with people running and screaming. Yes, that will certainly whet the animal’s appetite for hunting.

He slides out of the car. It’s probably unnecessary to intervene because somebody here will have a gun but that somebody may be a better shot than expected and then the cougar will get hurt or worse. He’d like to avoid that because being a werewolf gives him a certain affinity to animals. Or maybe he’s just too soft as Peter always says.

There’s no plan really. He instinctively pulls his head in a little when a shot is fired and the panic and shouting increases. Stepping out of the shadow of his mother’s Land Rover, he just walks towards the animal hoping it will sense him and turn tails. As far as predators go, werewolves are at the top of the ladder.

The commotion in the parking lot must have scared the cougar because it’s now moving away towards the woods… and straight towards one Stiles Stilinski, who’s running at full pelt towards the school. What the fuck does he think he’s doing? He’s going to get himself mauled or killed because a cornered animal will always attack.

There’s no time to reach Stiles or the cougar so Derek does the only thing he can think of and that’s to shift just enough that he can let out a deep warning growl. The cougar looks back at him and forgets all about Stiles to scarper as fast as it can towards the shadows and out of sight.

Stiles seems oblivious. Did he even see the animal? Derek follows him with his eyes to where he hugs his father. Then he and the sheriff come over to him and Derek plays down his role in the whole scenario. The guy with the rifle also approaches them and Derek feels strangely uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the man’s piercing eyes. The rifle looks huge and like something that maybe shouldn’t be fired anywhere near other people but the sheriff seems to have that covered. Listening to his sharp tone Derek wouldn’t want to be in the other guy’s shoes.

His parents are suddenly there. His mother arrives from the school entrance and his father from the other side, coming around the corner from the back of the building where the cougar disappeared.

“Are you alright, darling?” his mother asks and he nods reassuringly. One of the advantages of being a werewolf has always been that there’s no need for his parents to fuss and be worried for their kids’ physical wellbeing.

His dad comes up to them and claps his shoulder. Derek knows that he went around the school so he and his mother could approach their son from different directions in case there was any danger. It’s a strategy his family has always employed even if it's only on such mundane occasions as losing one of their children at the mall: spread out, cover more ground and hone in from different angles. He wonders if other children get taught lessons like that. He thinks maybe Stiles did.

There’s a short discussion with the sheriff about what happened and his parents roll their eyes that someone fired a gun in this situation. Meanwhile Stiles is uncharacteristically quiet and much paler than usual. He’s also shaking a little. Derek tries to catch his eye but there’s no reaction. Then the sheriff notices and bundles his son into the cruiser with a blanket around his shoulders.

“Who was the shooter?” his father asks as they’re driving home.

Derek shrugs. “I think he’s the dad of the new girl. Although it makes no sense for her parents to be there. She’s only been in school for a week. What could the teachers possibly say about her?”

“Well, he’s one crazy moron, whoever he was,” his dad says. “I hope John sorts him out.”

“I think he will.” Derek smiles remembering how the sheriff talked to the guy. Although people like that never listen to sense.

“Did you have anything to do with what happened?” His mother's watching his profile carefully. Then, when he doesn’t answer right away, she gives a low warning, “Derek?”

“Stiles was there and the cougar went straight for him, so I just made a bit of noise to scare it off.”

“Just noise? Or…?” She must know that to produce an effective growl he would have had to shift at least a little.

“Stiles was in real danger, mom. I wasn’t careless. I was worried.” He keeps his eyes deliberately on the road in front of him. “You wouldn’t want me to let him get attacked by a cougar, would you? Or shot by some crazy old man?”

In the backseat his father grumpily mutters, “Old man!”

Derek belatedly realizes that his parents are the same age and grins at his dad in the rearview mirror. His dad rolls his eyes.

But his mother isn’t getting distracted. “What did you do exactly?” Her voice is calm. This is just her fact finding mode, so she can either be prepared or do damage control if necessary.

“I growled but that could have been the cougar as well. No one was close enough to tell the difference. And I suppose my eyes were blue but Stiles didn’t see anything, I swear. And no one else could see me because I had my back to them.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, mom.” He is. He’s certain partly because he _wants_ to be certain. He’s not going to fuck up again, not ever. He would never live it down or forgive himself. It’s bad enough as it is. Anyway the other part is that Stiles couldn’t have seen anything because if he had he would have said something or reacted in some way. Stiles is the last person to keep quiet if he saw anything out of the ordinary. And Derek really, _really_ doesn’t want to imagine the future conversations he’d have to endure if Stiles _did_ see his eyes glow.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

**7**

 

The next morning Stiles is already researching before school, running on three hours of sleep and a succession of nightmares involving mountain lions with glowing eyes chasing him and his dad. As soon as he woke up to the knowledge that there really was a mountain lion disturbing the parent evening at the school, he also remembered that something was bothering him last night.

Before he managed to fall into an uneasy sleep, there were umpteen re-runs of the same sequence, no matter how hard he tried to stop. Through it all there was something niggling at the back of his mind. He gets like that sometimes: he sees or hears something that he doesn’t consciously take in but it won’t let him rest until he’s pieced it together. It’s as if his mind is telling him that, yes, the mountain lion was way too close for comfort and, yes, his dad could have gotten seriously hurt or worse in several ways, but there was also something important there that he should maybe try his hardest to remember.

The nightmares were a pretty obvious giveaway. At first, he dismisses it as an imagination in the heat of the moment or maybe an optical illusion. However, the more he thinks about it, the more convinced he is that it was real. It was too dark for a trick of the light and he definitely saw it. It just didn’t register because he was too focused on his dad. But now he’s realizing that when Derek stepped out of the shadow and in front of the mountain lion,  _his eyes were glowing a preternatural blue._ Well, isn’t that interesting?

Soon he knows everything there is to know about the  _tapetum lucidum_ , the reflective layer at the back of the eyes that allows felines to have better night vision while appearing to make their eyes glow. He also dismisses it almost straight away as an explanation. The reason he parked in the spot where he parked last night was because the lights in that area are broken. There was no light source behind him or between him and Derek that could have been reflected in his eyes. And even if there was, since when is Derek a feline?

He’s in the middle of a treatise on how glowing eyes mean you have to be either a magic practitioner or from a lineage of supernatural beings from a higher dimension, when his father issues his third and final warning for him to get ready for school. Reluctantly Stiles saves all seventeen tabs he has open on his laptop and gets going.

He can well imagine Derek practicing magic. It would explain why he’s so taciturn and secretive. Also, a lot of the books in his room were about the supernatural, some of the literary kind, but even more were about mythology and unexplained phenomena, even witchcraft. Maybe he’s secretly a witch. Maybe Paige was one, too, and something went horribly wrong during a ritual. Maybe that’s why Derek's so withdrawn now, because he’s trying to get out of the magic circle he used to form with his friends. Maybe his friend Paul moved away after the accident for the same reason.

Or maybe Derek is a supernatural being, most likely a vampire or a werewolf if the websites are to be believed. Or maybe a demon. No, not a demon, Derek's way too kind for that… unless that’s his disguise. Probably not a vampire either because he’s out and about during the day. It would be really disappointing if the one criterion that every vampire lore has in common wasn’t true.

So that leaves werewolf or angel bloodline or witch. Or possibly something artificial like a really sophisticated cyborg or android. Alien maybe? Yeah, right.  _Too far_.

But when he finally sees Derek in English after lunch,  _everything_  seems too far. What was he thinking? Magic and the supernatural don’t exist or if they do, he can’t for the life of him reconcile the idea with Derek Hale of all people. Derek's so unassuming and normal and when he catches Stiles staring at him during the lesson, he just smiles and raises his eyebrows questioningly.

Yeah, the whole idea’s completely ludicrous.

Ms Argent proves to be her usual distracting self. She’s wearing a pant skirt today with a low v-necked top and is all smiles, particularly at Derek and by extension Stiles, as they’re sitting together. Or maybe Stiles is just imagining it. Maybe she’s as nice as Allison thinks. Derek seems to like her. Stiles may just be going crazy. It’s not like he doesn’t kind of worry perpetually that he’ll go that way eventually.

He’s not even exasperated any longer that Derek stays behind to speak to her afterwards. If she’s counseling him, they have to make arrangements somehow. Nevertheless he dawdles a little but gets swept up by Scott’s problems. Apparently Allison is no longer allowed to see Scott after their little stunt of skipping school yesterday. The Argents blame Scott for that and he admits readily that it was his idea.

“But it was Allison’s birthday!” he insists. “And I didn’t even have a present for her because I didn’t know. So my present was supposed to be spending a day together. It was awesome. We went into the woods, just the two of us. And we had so much fun. And mom said I’m grounded. It’s not as if we’d ever do that again. It was a special occasion and...”

Stiles tunes him out because this can conceivably go on for hours. He just makes some noises from time to time that could mean anything and seem to satisfy Scott. The grounding won’t last long because Melissa McCall has next to no resistance to Scott’s puppy dog eyes. She’s also not deluded enough to try and separate her son from Allison. The punishment is for missing school and nothing else.

Allison on the other hand, takes her parents’ instructions very seriously. Apart from exchanging longing looks with Scott from a distance she keeps away. Maybe she’s worried that her aunt will see her if she talks to him in school. However, all that only lasts until Chemistry when the two of them ‘accidentally’ forget to inform Harris that they’re no longer supposed to work together. Within two minutes of sitting next to each other they’re holding hands under the cover of the desk.

Stiles smiles and shakes his head wondering if this means he’ll be seeing more of Scott for a while or if his best friend will be preoccupied with finding ways to see Allison. In his head he’s already planning how to help the two of them out, if only to stop Scott’s incessant lamenting.

Then Derek flops down in the chair next to him and Scott’s forgotten. Well, Derek doesn’t exactly flop, like, ever. He’s unfairly graceful in whatever he does. Stiles hates it. The contrast between his own clumsiness and Derek's sleek poise couldn’t be greater. It’s almost… preternatural? Feline? Magic? Yeah, right, or maybe Derek just has better command of his body because he’s fitter than Stiles and works out more.

“How…” both of them start at the same time.

Derek smiles and makes a flourishing motion to indicate that Stiles should go first.

“I was going to ask how your little chat with sexy teacher went.”

Derek's smile falters. “Can you please stop? It’s just counseling and she can’t help the way she looks.”

That may be true but it’s not the fact that Kate Argent is good-looking, it’s what she does with that fact. Stiles likes women who are confident, who are comfortable with the way they look and don’t feel the need to hide it. Lydia Martin being a case in point. But Kate just exudes a kind of seductiveness that has no place in a school, not from a teacher and not from any adult surrounded by hormonal teenagers in any situation. He wouldn’t tolerate it from a man and he doesn’t see why being a woman gives her any more license. He can’t understand why Derek doesn’t see it.

“What did  _you_  want to say?” he asks in lieu of an answer.

“I was gonna ask how your dad’s doing. Did he get hurt badly last night? Is he okay?”

The only thing Stiles can do is nod. Because,  _of course,_  Derek would ask after his dad. Only Stiles insists on needling people whenever he talks to them. Normal people,  _nice_ people like Derek are concerned about their friends and their friends’ friends and families. So that settles it then. If Derek Hale is anything preternatural, he’s definitely descended from an angel somehow.

“What?” Derek asks, frowning in confusion.

“What  _what_? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. You said  _definitely angel._ ”

Shit, did he say that out loud? “No, I didn’t.”

“Did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did, too.”

“Mr. Stilinski,” Harris booms from the front of the class. “If you and Mr. Hale could stop playing kindergarten, the rest of us would like to start this lesson.”

Stiles blushes for several reasons he doesn't want to examine too closely and glares at Harris.

Derek sighs.

 

 

One thing bench warming is good for is that it gives you time to think and watch and see. After the warm-up for everyone, the players are divided into two teams for a mock game but there’s always a small group of four or five guys, who sit on the sideline. There’s Greenberg, of course, and Melrose, who has such bad eyesight he can barely see the ball when it’s four feet in front of him. Scott’s usually so out of breath by the fitness exercises that playing is out of the question and today they’re joined by Davidson, who has a sprained ankle and sits as far away from the rest of them as possible so as not to get contaminated by their ineptitude. Stiles is generally considered a danger to the other players, who can’t be trusted with a stick in their vicinity.

Normally he doesn’t pay much attention and just chats with Scott, only cheering when someone makes Jackson look particularly stupid. But today Scott’s bemoaning the fact that Allison had to go straight home after school and couldn’t watch him sitting down on the bench. Luckily he’s still a bit winded so a lot of it is sad, silent looks to the spot that she occupied during the last few practice sessions. Any decent – as in: remotely interesting – conversation isn’t happening this afternoon.

So Stiles watches the game more closely. Jackson and Danny have always been the best players without trying very hard. But now that Derek's joined the team everything’s changed. He's just so incredibly fast. All his shots at the goal hit home. When he walks he twirls the lacrosse stick like a baton. His passes seem to find the other players’ crosse heads by magic, as if they don’t so much catch the ball but Derek instead just hits the pocket at the end of their sticks from wherever he is across the field. He makes the guys on his team look good and the other team look like idiots. Predictably Jackson resorts to deliberate and increasingly brutal body slams, but Derek doesn’t even blink, letting Jackson bounce off like he’s encased in rubber.

And suddenly Stiles isn’t so sure about anything anymore. Is this still ordinary? Natural talent, extreme fitness and a body designed for sports all coming together in a perfect storm? He never paid much attention to basketball but he knows that Derek was the star player on their team, too. Maybe he’s just a one in a million athlete. He certainly doesn’t have to worry about his grades because he has any scholarship he might want in the bag.

Or maybe, just maybe, this kind of perfection goes together with glowing eyes.

Stiles is chewing on the finger of his glove, a nervous habit he has during lacrosse, when he notices Kate Argent walking towards the field and taking a seat on the bleachers opposite. There aren’t many onlookers today so she garners a lot of attention. What strikes Stiles the most is how she’s sitting with her elbows on her knees, a far cry from her hyper-feminine demeanor in class. She certainly blends in well as if she’s at home on the sports field.

At first Stiles thinks she’s come to watch Derek. Her eyes follow him closely but so does everyone else because he has the most possession of the ball and is a wonder to behold. But then Stiles meets her gaze and she smiles at him. He can’t resist checking behind him to see if there’s someone standing there, which seems to amuse her no end. He looks away but he ends up catching her eye way more often than can be considered accidental. She’s neither embarrassed nor is she trying to hide that she’s looking at him. It’s very disconcerting.

“Creepy aunt is creepy,” he mutters to Scott.

Scott, in his infinite wisdom, immediately looks at Kate and then sighs, “She’s probably just checking that I’m behaving myself and don’t go anywhere near Allison. God, I wish coach would let me play, then I could show her that I’m good at something.”

“Well, in that case coach is doing you a favor,” Stiles says matter-of-factly. “And didn’t you say she was on your side?”

“Yeah, but that was before. She’s a teacher. Of course, she’d be upset that we skipped school.”

“Doesn’t look upset to me. Her smile freaks me out.”

“That’s because you don’t like anybody ever.”

Stiles just shrugs because it’s true enough. His wariness of new people is nearing paranoid dimensions.

After fifteen minutes or so, Kate gets up and walks towards the school. As soon as she’s out of sight Stiles jumps up, shouts to Finstock that he needs the bathroom and jogs after her. As far as creepiness goes, he’s probably just taking it to a new level but he wants to see what car she drives and maybe who she’s going home with. Her little visit to the lacrosse pitch definitely felt like she was killing time while she was waiting for something or someone.

Luck’s on his side for a change, because when he rounds the corner of the school, he sees Kate in conversation with none other than Adrian Harris. They’re walking to the parking lot together and while Stiles can’t hear what they’re saying it’s obvious that they’re on pretty friendly terms. Kate is back to her flirtatious behavior, leaning against Harris’s sports car and twirling a strand of her hair. She’s laughing and even patting the car a little as if she’s complimenting Harris on his good taste and angling for a drive. Harris is very obviously out of his depth, his league and most likely his mind.

Stiles smiles as he walks back to the field. If Kate has her sights set on Harris then maybe that means she’s smart enough to keep her dirty mitts off the jail bait. 

 

*******

There isn’t any doubt in Derek's mind that Stiles didn’t see his eyes at the parent evening. However, that doesn’t stop him from wondering what his reaction would be. Paige was already aware of werewolves before she was bitten and she didn’t seem to mind. He never did find out how she knew though. Maybe she worked it out on her own. She was very perceptive and open-minded. He liked that about her.

If anyone's intelligent enough to work it out by themselves it’s definitely Stiles. Derek may have the better grades but that doesn’t alter the fact that Stiles is the smartest person he knows. His memory is phenomenal and his attention to detail unparalleled even if it’s down to obsessive personality traits. It’s a shame that the teachers don’t make allowances for how his mind works. Stiles would be top of the year, or at least a close second to Lydia Martin, who’s a genius in her own right albeit hiding behind vapid prettiness for some unfathomable reason.

Throughout English Derek catches Stiles looking at him intently but when he looks back, Stiles only smiles briefly and looks away. What would he say if Derek said something along the lines of,  _by the way I’m a werewolf_? It’s never been a problem before Paige. But ever since then he can’t help thinking about how people would react, his friends, his teachers, the postman, the cashier in the supermarket… Would anything change? Would they avoid him? Fear him? Hate him?

Of course he would never tell anyone. His parents have made it quite clear that the family’s continued survival depends on secrecy. There are hunters out there with guns and the will and expertise to kill them. Like all predators it’s possible to defeat werewolves with enough manpower, fire power and determination. That’s how humans took over the world after all.

He often thinks about what it would have been like if Paige had survived. If he could be with someone who already knows his secret, as lovers or even just as friends. Nowadays he can’t seem to relate to anyone anymore because he feels like he’s deceiving them. By not telling them the truth he pretends to be someone he’s not. Doesn’t that devalue any relationship? But he also knows that he doesn’t want to limit himself to just werewolf company. That would be like living in a small village with the same people all your life. He’s not looking forward to settling for that, but he will eventually because he’s never going to endanger anyone’s life ever again.

He speaks to Kate after the lesson to arrange their next meeting. She seems pleasantly surprised that he still wants to go through with it and assures him it would be perfectly alright if he didn’t want to.

“Not everyone’s cut out for counseling,” she says. “But I had a feeling you’d be mature enough for it. How about we meet today after your lacrosse practice? I have some stuff to finish up after school and then I can give you a ride.”

Derek wishes Stiles could hear how concerned she is, especially when Stiles immediately brings up the subject again before their Chemistry lesson has even started. Luckily he drops it just as quickly. On the whole, there’s something about the way Stiles makes his concern known that’s easier to take than the worry of his family. Maybe it’s Stiles’s sarcasm and pronounced judgments as opposed to the almost timid way his family approaches any criticism of him. It’s easier to cope with open disapproval that he can shoot down without weighing his every word carefully. It's kind of freeing.

He was probably not supposed to hear the remark about angels but it’s such a non-sequitur that he just has to ask. Stiles appears to be particularly weird today. Derek was never aware before how much he likes weird. And yes, the more he thinks about it the more he wishes that he could tell Stiles his secret. Or that Stiles had seen something last night and the whole dilemma would be out of his hands.

The beginning of lacrosse practice, when they’re just ‘warming up’ – which Finstock usually turns into a punishing exercise – is always the most fun. Some of the other players are pretty fit so Derek can let go a little without attracting too much attention. And Stiles is also always in the middle of it. He doesn’t have much stamina or coordination but can be very fast for short periods. Unfortunately when the practice game starts he’s usually left on the bench. It would be fun to have him on the team, although probably not conducive to actually winning.

Today Derek can practically feel Stiles watching him. He’s done it all day and Derek finds himself unable to resist showing off. He runs faster than he should, doesn’t react when people slam into him and handles the ball with pinpoint accuracy. He knows he shouldn’t – his family would be furious – but he just can’t stop. Something beyond his control is trying to will Stiles to connect the dots.

It lasts only until Kate turns up. She’s quite observant and things will be difficult enough without her becoming convinced that he’s some kind of sports prodigy, so he tones it down a little. She doesn’t stay for long and the next time he looks around, both Kate and Stiles are nowhere to be seen. Stiles doesn't return until nearly the end of the game.

“You were awesome,” Stiles says afterwards when they’re walking back to the locker room. “I’ve never seen anything like it. You put Jackson to shame and that makes bench warming totally worthwhile.”

“Watch your piehole, Stilinski,” comes Jackson’s menacing voice from behind them.

Derek stops dead and turns, ending up with only inches between them. “Or  _what_?” he asks coldly.

Jackson pales visibly. Up until now Derek has barely ever spoken to him because he doesn’t like him but he’s well aware of Jackson’s casual bullying, ranging from verbal threats to shoving and pushing in the corridors.

“What? Are you his guard dog?” Jackson tries to grin but his heartbeat gives away his fear and even to the normal human ear there’s a noticeable tremble in his voice. “Or are you two boyfriends now? Is he any good? He must be otherwise why bother with _that_?”

“Ah yes, I forgot to tell you,” Stiles pipes up and Derek can hear the glee in his voice. “Jackson gave me dibs on your ass last week.”

Jackson glares at him with a horrified expression and when Derek takes a threatening step forward, he moves back with obvious fear. Derek's keeping his body just on the edge of shifting which always intimidates people in ways they don’t understand but feel keenly. Ignoring Stiles, he says clearly, “What he _is_ is none of your business. He’s way too good for the likes of you. You’d do well to remember that.”

Danny moves Jackson a little out of the way by stepping into his personal space, making him step to the side. “Come on, guys, we’re all on the same team. This is stupid.”

“Spoilsport,” Stiles says grinning. “Derek could totally take him.”

“Stop egging them on, Stilinski!”

Derek waits until Danny has managed to pull Jackson along to the school before he follows them slowly.

“Well, that was refreshing,” Stiles says happily. “Thanks for the chivalry. I’m touched.”

“Yeah, you will be if you don’t stop provoking people.”

Walking next to them, Scott McCall nods and pulls a long-suffering face. Derek smiles and shakes his head. Stiles is incorrigible. It’s kind of cute but also a little worrying because he’s skinny and picking fights with people – who undoubtedly deserve it – will inevitably get him hurt at some point. Derek always finds it strange how little humans consider their own fragility. He’s worried sick about his twin cousins who are human like their father was. It’s a miracle to him that humans manage to grow up just fine, despite all the dangers in the world. Even humans like Stiles, who seems to be hellbent on facing as many of said dangers as he can head on.

“You wanna come to my house to write up the Chemistry report?” Stiles asks when they enter the locker room. “Scott’s grounded so I have time today.”

“Can’t.” Derek grabs his towel from his locker and strips down to his underwear. “I’ve got a thing.”

“A thing,” Stiles parrots looking dazed.

“Yeah, you know, a  _thing_ , where you're expected to be somewhere and meet someone, so you can’t meet someone else at the same time.”

“Which someone am I in this  _thing_?”

“The someone I can’t meet at the same time.”

“Figures. Tomorrow after school then? Or do you have another  _thing_  tomorrow as well?”

“No, tomorrow I’m all yours.”

Stiles puts both hands over his heart and bats his eyelids, looking up at him from where he’s sitting on the bench. “Don’t play with my feelings like that, Derek, my heart can’t take it.”

Derek swats him with his towel and Stiles predictably pretends to fall off the bench and rolls around on the floor as if in severe pain. Derek pointedly ignores him and tries not to grin too much as he walks into the shower room.

When he comes back out both Stiles and Scott are gone.

The school parking lot looks deserted, save for three cars, but when Derek comes down the steps, Kate lowers the window of the black behemoth she drives. Otherwise he wouldn’t have known if she’s there because the windows are blackened.

“Where do you want to do this?” she asks. “I would suggest something a bit more private than last time, if you’re comfortable with that.”

He shrugs, depositing his school bag by his legs and putting the seat belt on. “I don’t mind.” He’s still thinking about Stiles and how much he regrets that he couldn’t go with him. It’s amazing how much he enjoys his company.

“I have a small apartment. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” What could she possibly do that he couldn’t prevent? That would probably be true even if he wasn’t a werewolf so he’s flattered by the trust she’s placing in him.

Her driving is a little too aggressive for his taste but Peter drives like that, too, so it’s not as if he’s not used to it. Come to think of it, he hasn’t been in a car with Peter in a long time and he hasn’t missed it one bit.

“I was watching the lacrosse practice for a bit today.”

“Yes. I saw you. Are you a fan?”

She smiles. “Of the game or the star player?”

“Uhm, the game? I...eh... meant... do you like lacrosse?” He can feel himself blushing and hates it. Why does he have to behave like a teenager even if he is one? But she sounded so alluring just now.

“I’ve never had much to do with it. I don’t even know the rules. It looks interesting.” She seems completely offhand now, just making conversation on a subject she assumes interests him.

He must have been imagining things and that makes him blush even more. He doesn’t want her to realize how out of his depth he feels around her.

“Why wasn’t Stiles playing?”

Derek hesitates. Something in him is loath to admit that Stiles is just not very good at the game. It seems disloyal despite being the truth. He shrugs. “Coach is weird.”

That elicits a laugh from her, making him feel instantly more relaxed.

“That he is indeed,” she agrees. “So you and Stiles are good friends?”

Derek nods. It’s the first time he's thought about it in those terms, but yes, Stiles and he are good friends. If friendship is measured in being comfortable with someone that is. At least he hopes that Stiles feels the same way.

“Are your families friendly as well? His father’s the sheriff, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is. They both came to our barbecue on Sunday.”

“Did they?” She’s quiet for a while after that until she pulls into a small parking space in front of a rundown apartment building.

Derek’s impressed with her parking skills but with the building? Not so much. It looks quite shabby. The air in the dark cement stairwell is stale and smells of cooking, alcohol and urine. Luckily he doesn’t have to endure much of it because she lives on the first floor. Beyond the reinforced front door the apartment looks much better than the outside suggested. It’s clean and smells fresh. The furniture is new, if basic, and there are a few plants that give the place a pleasant look.

“I only just moved in,” she says. “I know it’s a dump but it was the only one on the market. It’s only for a few weeks and I spend most of my time with my brother and his family anyway. But at least we have privacy although not much quiet.” She rolls her eyes up to the ceiling from where there’s the unmistakable sound of a TV played at high volume.

“It’s okay,” he assures her.

After she’s provided him with a can of soda and made herself a coffee, they both sit on the oversized couch at opposite ends.

“So,” she says, stretching the word a little. “Shall we make a start? Why don’t you tell me a bit about your family?”

Derek’s relieved. He was expecting far more intimate questions than that. Talking about his family he can do. And as long as he doesn’t mention werewolves, what harm could it possibly do?

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

**8**

 

After lacrosse practice Stiles drops off Scott at home because his mother insists that, apart from school, his job and lacrosse, he’s not allowed to go anywhere. He follows him in, but Melissa tells him that Scott’s grounding includes ‘no Stiles’.

Stiles pouts. “ _No Stiles?_ Why? Why would you punish _me_? I haven’t done anything.”

It might have worked because he can see her features softening but then Scott chimes in, agreeing with him and the whole argument unravels rapidly. In the end Stiles ends up with the door quietly but firmly closed in his face. It’s not the first time it’s happened. There have been instances in the past when he was – mostly with good reason – blamed for getting both of them into trouble and temporarily evicted from his second home. It hurts nonetheless. He walks back to his Jeep trying to tell himself that this was only to be expected but it’s not helping much.

It’s another two hours until his father will be home from work, so he decides to do the weekly shopping and then cook a healthy meal for the both of them. The supermarket isn’t busy on a Wednesday afternoon and he takes his time to check the fat and sugar contents and tries to decide which of the fruit is fresh without squeezing it into a pulp by accident. When he looks up there’s a familiar face grinning at him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Peter Hale says with that weird smile that he has that’s a mixture between ironic and flirtatious.

All Stiles knows about the guy is that when he was still at BHHS he used to hang around Derek rather than the people in his own year, that he’s the uncle not the cousin his age would suggest and that he gives Stiles an unsettling feeling whenever he looks at him.

“Yeah, fancy that,” Stiles says with as much sarcasm as he can and turns back to the produce.

“Not that one,” Peter says when Stiles picks up a melon. “That’s overripe. It’ll go off in a day or two.”

With slow deliberateness Stiles places the melon in his basket and then holds Peter’s amused gaze defiantly. When he deems the pause long enough, he asks, “Was there something you wanted?”

“Oh, I want a lot of things although I doubt you can supply them. Right now, I’m just wondering where Derek is. Aren’t you two attached at the hip at the moment?”

Stiles looks down his own body feigning shock. “Oh my god! Where _is_ he? He must have come loose somehow. _Whatever_ will I do without him? I must find him.” He picks up his basket and starts to walk around Peter.

“You know, I like you, Stiles. You fit right into the family. I sense that we’ll be very good friends.”

“Not looking for friends,” Stiles says truthfully, moving along but he can’t help hesitating when Peter continues to talk.

“Yeah, I thought so, which begs the question what you’re doing with Derek. Because one thing’s clear: you two aren’t friends. You obviously barely know each other. So what is it? You got the hots for each other?”

Stiles turns slowly and looks Peter up and down. “Of course. We have sex in the janitor’s closet at school several times a day.” For a moment he can see himself half-naked with an equally half-naked Derek, exchanging hot kisses – and more – in a darkened room no bigger than a wardrobe. _Abort! Abort! Not going there in the middle of the fruit aisle of the 7/11. Not thinking of kissing or Derek or confined spaces. Or kissing Derek in a confined space._ In actual fact, he’s never seen the inside of the janitor’s closet. It might be quite comfortable for all he knows. _Nope, stop thinking about being in there with Derek. What the everloving fuck?!?_

Peter smirks as if he can read his thoughts. “I’d recommend the equipment room at the back of the gym hall. Much more comfortable.”

“I’ll bear that in mind. Was there anything else?”

“Well, you haven’t answered my question yet. Where’s Derek? He said he’d meet up with you after school so imagine my surprise when I saw you here. _Sans_ Derek.”

Before he can say something that would get Derek into trouble, Stiles remembers that his family is supposed to believe they’re buddies and being able to use Stiles as an alibi is obviously one of the reasons why. “He’s getting the booze,” Stiles grins. It’s such an obvious lie that he can be sure Peter won’t take it seriously.

“Like I said,” Peter says, his broad smile undiminished. “I really like you.” Then he turns and walks toward the exit empty-handed.

As far as Stiles is concerned it’s as likely that Peter’s been following him as it is that he simply saw him by accident and decided to have some fun by disconcerting him a little. Only, Stiles isn’t disconcerted so much as he’s annoyed. Making a beeline for the checkout he only shoves things into his basket that he happens to walk past and nearly pulls his items out of the cashier’s hands in his impatience when she doesn’t move fast enough for his taste.

Finally he’s sitting in his Jeep in the supermarket parking lot and sends Derek a message on his cell: _Next time u use me as ur alibi at least tell me!!!_

There’s no immediate answer and Stiles uses the time to take a good look around to find out if Peter's still hanging around. If he is, Stiles is unable to spot him. It’s probably just paranoia to expect him to linger anyway. Determinedly Stiles starts his car and drives home.

While he’s preparing dinner, he keeps getting distracted by checking his phone as if there’s any chance he might miss any notifications in the small kitchen. Eventually he puts the dinner in the oven and goes upstairs to start his homework. Still no message.

His dad is in a good mood, talking about his day, including the dressing-down he gave Mr. Argent, which he very evidently enjoyed a good deal. “The guy’s a gun dealer, if you’d believe that. If he thinks he can supply guns to the department, he’s got another think coming.”

“Scott and his daughter are dating.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much from the argument Melissa was having at the school last night.”

“Allison’s no longer allowed to see Scott. Apparently it’s all Scott’s fault they skipped school.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be the Scott _I_ know.”

Stiles shrugs. A mere two weeks ago he would have agreed, but now he barely recognizes his best friend. Does this always happen when people fall in love? He’s seen plenty of couples at school who don’t lose all interest in anyone or anything around them once they get together. Maybe it only happens when you meet your soulmate or something ridiculous like that.

“Are you expecting a call?” his father asks. “Because you keep looking at your phone.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Nah. It’s getting too late.” If Derek were to answer his message he would have done it before now.

His dad nods serenely probably imagining some romantic entanglement and wisely keeping out of it. Stiles wishes it was something like that because he’s disappointed and finds himself wondering if his reaction isn’t a little disproportionate to what’s going on. He texted Derek, who either hasn’t read the message yet or hasn’t had the time or inclination to answer – what’s the big deal?

After they’ve done the dishes his father goes to watch some TV while Stiles heads upstairs to play with Scott online. It’s almost like old times. Scott only mentions Allison every ten minutes or so and that must be some kind of record. Then he suddenly stops playing and moves very close to the screen looking at anything but Stiles.

Stiles pauses the game. “What’s up, bro?”

“There’s something behind you,” Scott whispers. “In your window.”

Stiles swivels around so fast in his chair that the whole thing moves three feet across the room on its wheels. He also shrieks a little when he sees a dark figure looking through the window into his room – on the second floor!

In his shock he takes a few moments to recognize Derek. “What the fuck?!”

The TV downstairs goes quiet and his father asks, “Are you okay?” at the same time as Scott asks, “What is it? I can’t see properly.”

Stiles takes a few deep breaths to calm himself and shouts, “Everything’s fine, Dad. I fell off the chair. I’m a klutz.” He waits until he can hear his father laugh and the volume on the TV being turned back up. Then he tells Scott that he’ll have to call him back and closes his laptop while Scott’s still protesting.

Without making a sound Derek nonchalantly pushes the window up and slides into the room through the gap.

“You do realize that my dad’s a cop, right? And that he therefore has a gun, right? And that he won’t hesitate to shoot you if he thinks there’s a home invasion, right?”

Derek shrugs. “I wasn’t sure if he’d let me see you this late.”

“Hhm, yes, instead of risking my dad telling you it’s too late to visit, you risk getting shot. Makes perfect sense. Have you ever heard of this new-fangled invention called a _phone_?”

“Yeah about that: what did your message mean?”

“It meant that I met your uncle while I was shopping and he told me you were with me. Now obviously I realize that you weren’t, with your complete absence and all, but I understood that you told people that you’d meet me and then didn’t. So I’d like to know what or who I’m covering for.”

There’s a pause while Derek crosses his arms displaying bare skin covered in dark hair. He’s dressed in thick sweatpants and a t-shirt, which seems a little inadequate for being outside after nightfall in January. If he’s out for a run he can’t have started yet because he’s not sweaty.

“I had my first counseling session today.”

Stiles first reaction is: no, just no, he’s not helping Derek meet that bitch in secret. But then he takes in Derek's defensive posture, his clenched jaw and the steely eyes. If Derek doesn’t have any friends left and he doesn’t want to tell his family what he’s doing, who’s left?

“How did it go?”

Apparently that wasn’t what Derek expected to hear because he frowns. Then he slowly relaxes a little and walks to Stiles’s bed to sit on the edge. “I don’t know. It was weird. She asked me all these questions about my family. She wanted to know everything. Who they are, how we’re related, how close we are, how often we get together… she even asked about your dad, like, is he a close friend and is he around our house a lot. Why is that important?”

“I don’t know, man, my counselor never asked me anything like that but maybe that was because thinking about my mom was what gave me panic attacks. Maybe she wants to know what your support system’s like.”

“Maybe,” Derek agrees. “I didn’t mind telling her. I really like her. But… it just wasn’t what I expected… I don’t even know what I expected.”

“I still think it’s a bad idea,” Stiles says. “There must be better ways to get therapy. I mean you don’t even know if she _is_ a counselor. You only have her word for it. And if she doesn’t practice, then there’s no way of finding out if she’s any good or a serial killer or anything.”

“I hardly think she’s a murderer,” Derek snorts.

“Yes, I agree, because murderers usually have it tattooed on their foreheads.”

Derek smiles. “So what did Peter want?”

“Not sure. He asked where you were. Told me you said you’d meet me. And then he made some innuendos and walked away.”

“Sounds like him. What did you tell him?”

“Nothing really. I neither denied nor confirmed anything. If your dad’s a cop, you soon become a master of plausible deniability.”

“So if I said to Peter I was just getting something from a different shop would you go along with that?”

“I told him you were getting booze. I don’t mind lying to Peter but I don’t want to have to do it to anyone else in your family because the rest of them I actually like.”

“You can’t lie to any of them, not even Peter. Deflection’s the key.”

That seems reasonable to Stiles, since Derek’s mom is a judge and conceivably even better at spotting lies than his dad is. The sudden silence downstairs alerts him that his father is preparing for bed. “You’ve gotta go. My dad will be coming upstairs in a moment.”

Derek is up and out of the window in a flash. Stiles follows him to close it behind him but Derek puts his head through again. “Stiles… be careful with Peter, okay? He’s not good people.”

“I am aware,” Stiles smiles. Derek's genuine concern does something warm and pleasant to his stomach.

Derek nods and Stiles watches him as he makes his way across the roof and swings over the side of it. A few moments later he sees him jogging down the road, not quite sure how he managed to traverse the roof so easily and got down the rest of the way so quickly unless he simply jumped.

After he’s said good night to his dad, he spends twenty minutes convincing Scott that everything’s fine and he’ll explain it in school. Then he goes to bed himself.

As he so often does, he tosses and turns, going over his day in his head and cringing at the things he said and did. Why was he goading Jackson after lacrosse? He genuinely didn’t realize that the guy was behind them when he spoke to Derek but why didn’t he just keep his mouth shut after that? Now Derek is involved in Stiles’s mini-feud as well and he gets the impression that Derek really values being left alone.

On the other hand, Derek gave a pretty impressive display of his ability to scare people. He literally cowed Jackson and told him to stay away from Stiles. Why would he do that? If Jackson really gets on his nerves that much why has he never said anything before? Did he simply snap or did it have anything to with Stiles? Was Derek protecting him because he likes him? Or because he feels sorry for the skinny guy?

And what was happening on the lacrosse field anyway? Derek was _on fire_. Some of his shots were faster than Stiles could follow with his eyes. And he ran at lightning speed. And then suddenly he stopped and everything was just normal, although Derek's skills remained way ahead of Stiles’s. How great would it be to get Scott’s perspective on it but Scott was barely paying attention. So all Stiles is left with is adding to his list: glowing eyes, super-speed, incredible accuracy and extra strength when someone slams into your body. Not to forget great climbing skills. None of that narrows it down. Derek could still be any one of a whole array of creatures. Or completely human and the victim of the over-imagination of one Stiles Stilinski.

And as it turns out Kate was waiting for Derek after all. That’s not good news. Nor is Derek's insistence that he really likes her. What’s there to like? She has _Fake_ practically written all over her. Why can’t Derek see it? It’s kind of disappointing that he doesn’t have more of an instinct. Stiles is used to it from Scott but he somehow expected more from Derek.

However, Derek did come to his room later and he seemed to have some doubts then. Fucking finally. Although Stiles finds Kate’s questions about Derek's family less disturbing than Derek apparently does. She has to find out about the people in his life if she wants to help him. What does he need help with anyway? Yes, his girlfriend died but his family seems pretty supportive and on the whole he appears well-adjusted if a little unsocial.

Then again, Peter Hale is his uncle and living in his house. That’s enough to send anyone over the edge of sanity. Whenever Stiles has seen Peter he’s displayed an unhealthy focus on Derek. Today he even investigated what Derek was up to. At least in this case Derek is aware that the person in question is not what they appear to be on the surface so his good judgment isn’t completely non-existent.

Then Stiles remembers his conversation with Peter at the supermarket. And his momentary flash of imagination concerning Derek and the janitor’s closet. And that’s pretty much the end of his stock-taking of the day because his mind is now firmly on a single track involving kissing a certain guy. He pulls his pillow over his head to muffle the sound as he groans. _Great, just fucking great, another person completely out of his league making him lie awake at night._

 

*******

 

Kate is undeniably pretty. Derek likes the way her eyes sparkle when she smiles and how her hair falls into her face when she tilts her head just the right way. She seems completely relaxed around him, more like she’s a friend than his teacher. Once or twice she even nudges him playfully with her bare foot as they’re sitting at opposite ends on the couch.

So, yes, he has to admit that he’s attracted to her on some level, a very basic level, because when he thinks about it, he realizes that it’s mainly a sexual attraction. A good-looking woman is paying him attention and he’s a teenager. He doesn’t need to think too hard about the reason he likes her.

At the beginning of this first session he has to concentrate on what they’re doing rather than what he imagines they could be doing. After the first few questions, however, it isn’t all that difficult to focus any longer because she asks a lot of questions about his family. He’s been told from an early age not to talk about them, nothing past the basics at any rate, because the more people know the easier it will be for them to suspect what the Hales are.

Yeah, that’s pretty laughable. He did everything short of shifting on the lacrosse field today and Stiles is still as oblivious as before. So how would other unsuspecting people all of a sudden realize he’s a werewolf? Paige only knew because she was already aware of werewolves before they started dating. It wasn’t any knowledge she gained from watching Derek or talking to him. Just like Stiles is never going to just guess.

Nevertheless his caution is ingrained and he can’t understand why it’s important for his therapy how many cousins he has or how old they are or whether all his family lives around here. They do, but why is it relevant? Kate says she’s just getting a better picture of him. Maybe he’s just as paranoid as his mother is about these things.

If all their sessions are going to go this way, he won’t last long, but he won’t give up after only one either. And while he needs to negotiate the cliffs of not saying too much without seeming to be unreasonably cagey, at least he doesn’t have to talk about the painful stuff just yet.

Derek comes out of Kate’s apartment a little giddy. As she said goodbye to him at her front door and he was walking out, she put a gentle hand on his lower back. He turned to look at her but she just smirked and shut the door. What was that about? Is he imagining things? He may not be as vocal and as desperate about being a virgin as Stiles is, but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t just as keen to change that particular state of affairs. What could be better than doing that with a more experienced person? It doesn’t need to mean anything.

He jogs home to calm himself down and starts feeling silly almost immediately. Kate is his teacher. She wouldn’t make a pass at him. She would lose her job. Maybe she’s flirting a little just for the hell of it. He would be up for that. At the moment he shies away from all the girls he knows because he’s too worried that he might end up hurting someone again. But Kate wouldn’t get hurt. She’s just playing. At her age she’s smart enough not to get involved.

It’s not until his mother calls him down for dinner that he switches his phone back on. There’s a message from Stiles. A somewhat cryptic message. Derek made sure to tell his family that he wouldn’t be home straight after school in a message and implied he’d be meeting with Stiles. Nobody can tell a lie when it’s written on a screen. He would never have expected Stiles to run into any of his family, but just in case he left his message vague enough that he could talk his way out of it. He just needs to know what was said.

Neither Peter nor Laura are at the family meal and since no one starts to interrogate him, he assumes Stiles’s message was about one of them. He’ll have to find out as soon as possible so he tells everyone he’s going for a run after dinner.

Stiles’s house is several miles away although slightly closer if he cuts through the woods. By now it’s getting late and he doesn’t want to have wasted his effort by being turned away by Stiles’s father so he takes the direct route climbing up to his window. It’s dark enough that he doesn’t need to worry about getting spotted especially since he doesn’t make a noise and is very fast.

He watches Stiles through the window for a minute or so realizing that he didn’t just come here to ask about the message. For that he could have used the phone. But Stiles is the only person he knows who’s been to therapy before, so Derek can ask him if all those questions about his family are normal procedure. And more than that… Stiles is also the only person he can talk to – at all. He’s the only one who knows what Derek is doing. He’s also the only person… he’s Derek's friend. His only one right now and that wouldn’t feel so weird if Derek couldn’t clearly see him chatting with Scott. There’s something about the fact that Stiles already has a friend to share everything with that makes Derek uncomfortable.

 

 

The next day Derek suddenly finds himself in the reversed position from the night before where Scott is concerned. During lunch Stiles asks him if he wants to come to his house after school to write up the chemistry report they couldn’t do the day before.

Scott’s attention is momentarily drawn away from Allison. “I thought Thursday’s _our_ day?”

Stiles nods exaggeratedly. “Yes, dude, it is. But are you actually able to partake in our customary pastime tonight?”

“Well, no. I’m still grounded.”

“Hence I will spend tonight with Derek to ensure that I’ll receive a well-deserved A in Chemistry just to spite Harris.” He grins at Derek. “Ready to spend the night with me?”

“Sure,” Derek says without missing a beat. “But you should know that I don’t put out on the first date.”

Stiles chokes on the bite of food he just took and the rest of the table goes very quiet. After Derek has thumped Stiles’s back a few times, he glares at the others sitting with them. What’s their deal?

“Technically it’s our second date,” Stiles says in a scratchy voice.

“Get a room, you two,” Jackson grumbles.

It makes Derek realize that while Stiles habitually makes innuendos, this is the first time he’s responded in kind. He didn’t even think about it. He was just trying not to let on that it felt like Stiles only asked him because Scott couldn’t be there. That’s a surprisingly bitter thought. On the other hand he has no intention of getting into a competition for Stiles’s affections, so he turned the whole thing into a joke.

It turns out that Scott somehow manages to be there anyway because after they finish their school work, they hook up with him online. Derek tries to be philosophical about it. He never disliked Scott before so there’s no reason to start now. Scott is pretty good-natured and doesn’t seem to mind sharing Stiles with someone else. Derek finds that he’s slightly offended by that on Stiles’s behalf.

In general he doesn’t consider himself a jealous person. Peter always maintains that wolves don’t share but Derek doesn’t believe that, not anymore. For years he was best friends with Jordan and Paul and they were best friends with each other. It was never an issue. He wasn’t jealous of anyone in Paige’s life either, male or female, although he always wondered if maybe he should be. Peter certainly seemed to think so, mentioning over and over again how Derek needed to make her ‘his’, with disastrous results. He’s never listening to Peter again, that’s for sure.

And yet… whenever he sees Scott and Stiles together he experiences a moment of… it’s almost like surprise, although seeing them together is certainly nothing new. They have always been inseparable. And yet every time there’s a little lurch in his stomach like he forgot they’re friends and his mind goes…’oh’.

At first he doesn’t know what to make of it. Then he decides it’s because he left it too long. For the past few months he isolated himself, only speaking to his family and his teachers when they insisted. He’s probably just out of practice on the friendship front. It makes him want too much and all at once, like coming out of the desert to an oasis. He’ll get used to having friends again soon.

On Monday he happily teams up with Stiles in Chemistry. Harris really did him a favor, no doubt unintentionally, when he forced the two of them to work together. Of course, it also means that he can’t be sure that Stiles would choose to work with him if he had another option. He hasn’t forgotten how ardently opposed Stiles was to pairing up with him for the rest of the year just a couple of weeks ago. For now, however, he seems happy enough with the situation.

Greenburg joins them at the back of the classroom today because his usual partner isn’t here today and he has to work alone. He’s at the next table over, doodling in his notebook while Harris explains the experiment.

Derek can’t remember any of his previous Chemistry teachers being this keen on practical work. Harris is probably just too lazy to teach. This way he can do his report marking in class instead of having to do it after school.

Stiles is chatting away as much as he can without attracting Harris’s attention. They’re allowed to talk during the experiments but it’s supposed to be about the work they’re doing. Like anyone does that! But Harris usually only notices it when it’s students he doesn’t like, with Stiles naturally topping his list.

So Derek is vigilant, keeping an ear out so they don’t get caught talking about lacrosse, when a noise filters through to his conscious mind. It’s not coming from Harris, who’s bent over his paperwork, using his red pen with gusto, but from his right. It’s slight, like a crackle of fire. Greenberg has left his table and gone to the cabinet to get another ingredient leaving what he’s done so far on the burner.

Derek only has a split second to react. He turns and spreads his arms around a slightly gasping Stiles, shielding him from the explosion on Greenberg’s table as he takes both of them down to the floor. He’s tackled plenty of people in his life, during sports or while sparring with his family, so he instinctively cradles Stiles’s head before it can make unprotected contact with the floor. He also doesn’t let his weight drop down on him, using one knee and one hand to stop his own fall before he squashes Stiles with his bulk.

His back’s on fire. He can feel a barrage of tiny glass particles and fiery droplets burn through his shirt and into his skin. As he grunts in pain, the sprinklers come on cooling the hot areas of his back. By now he’s crouched over Stiles, who looks a little stunned.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Stiles nods. “Thanks to your superhero act. What happened?”

“Greenberg’s concoction blew up.”

The fire alarm starts up next, drowning out Harris’s voice asking if anyone’s hurt and to leave the classroom immediately.

Stiles smirks up from his position under Derek, batting his eyelids rapidly. “Maybe we should take this somewhere more appropriate, Mr. Hale?”

Derek nods. “Yeah, assembly point A.”

“Spoilsport,” Stiles mutters and accepts Derek’s hand to help him up.

The whole school is in motion, with everyone trying to get outside. Greenberg is shuffling out in front of them, a little confused by Stiles’s enthusiastic thumbs-up gesture. Derek's no longer in pain which means the skin on his back has healed up already. At the end of the corridor he can see Laura looking around despite her teacher urging her to move along. He raises his hand to signal he’s okay and Laura finally does what she’s told.

The sophomores assemble on the lacrosse field. Miss Donovan, the math teacher, is already there ticking off each of them on her clipboard as they arrive. The air is full with questions and explanations, some of them pretty outlandish. Most of the students, assuming the reason which is nowadays on everyone’s mind, look traumatized until they’re told that it was definitely ‘just’ an explosion. Miss Donovan praises all of them for the disciplined evacuation of the school and reassures them again that there’s no danger and lessons will resume as soon as the fire department has given the all clear.

As if on cue, several sirens can be heard in the distance. Soon the school is swarming with firemen and police officers. After a while the principal comes out to tell them that Mr. Harris’s class is dismissed for the day as their classroom is unusable and most of them are soaked from the sprinklers. They’re invited to call their parents to let them know.

After Stiles and Derek have collected their sodden belongings from the fire truck, the sheriff comes over to check on his son. Stiles downplays what happened and jokes that he wishes he’d known sooner that this was the way to get a free afternoon. His father smiles at him with subdued relief, then looks at Derek.

“You alright, Derek?”

“Yes, sir. All good.”

Stiles gives him a long undecipherable look. “You know what, Dad,” he says then. “I think Derek and I will go home and have some lunch and shoot some bad guys to unwind.” As his father and Derek frown at him, he clarifies, “On screen. Jeez, what did you guys think?”

“You do that,” the sheriff says and gives his son a brief one-armed hug that he's clearly been refraining from with some difficulty until now. Maybe he didn’t think it appropriate because he’s on duty or maybe he was worried about Stiles’s ‘street cred’ in front of his classmates. Although the latter needn’t have been a consideration as it’s non-existent anyway.

On the way to Stiles’s house, Derek sends a message to his mother explaining what happened at school and that he’ll be spending some time with Stiles before he’ll go home. Then he lets Laura know as well so she doesn’t worry when she doesn’t see him in school for the rest of the day.

Stiles is uncharacteristically quiet during the drive and lets them into the house without a word. Derek follows him up the stairs to his room beginning to feel a little discomfited. Abruptly Stiles drops his wet school stuff on the floor and turns to Derek.

“Right. Now, let’s get real. Take your shirt off.”

Involuntarily Derek takes a step back although Stiles is standing by the desk and Derek is still near the door so they’re nowhere near touching distance and even if they were Stiles could never possibly pose a threat to Derek anyway. It’s more surprise and utter confusion that makes him wary. He frowns.

Stiles looks determined but there’s not an iota of suggestiveness. “I want to see your back.”

“And you won’t be surprised if I want to know why, will you?”

“Because I have a fetish for male backs, dude.”

Derek feels a little more comfortable in the face of Stiles’s more familiar sarcasm. He smiles. “Is this a variation on the friends-with-benefits joke? Because you’re being weird. What’s going on?”

Stiles comes closer with slow, deliberate steps. “I was standing behind you, man. On the pitch. And I saw your back or glimpses of it through the _quarter-sized holes in your shirt_.”

Derek instinctively tries to touch his own back but can only reach the bottom half. There are three or four holes there and now that Stiles has mentioned it they feel a lot bigger than he’s assumed until now. “It’s nothing. It didn’t go through. It’s just the shirt.”

“If you say so.” Stiles is eye to eye with him now. “Then you won’t mind showing me, will you? Come on, big guy, don’t be shy. Take off that shirt. You can borrow one of mine.”

A dozen responses flit through Derek's mind. From laughing off the suggestion that Stiles’s shirts would be anywhere near the right size to treating the whole thing as just another innuendo and reacting in kind. He even considers to simply leave. It’s what he should do: retreat and come up with an excuse when he’s had time to think about it.

What he does instead is pull his shirt over his head in one quick move, like tearing off a band-aid, and slowly turning around to let Stiles see his unmarked skin.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

**9**

If Stiles wasn’t looking for it, he'd probably miss it.

When they were assembling on the lacrosse field, he got a good look at Derek's shirt. It had several pretty substantial holes in it, each one of them singed around the edge or red with what he assumed to be blood. He didn’t say anything at the time because he knows that Derek doesn’t like being the center of attention and he was walking around without any apparent pain so he probably wasn't in any imminent danger.

Now that he looks at the bare skin, he can’t see any injuries. He and Derek both got pretty soaked by the sprinklers and Derek's back the most, as he was lying on top of Stiles. The water washed away whatever blood there may have been, but there are several very thin lines of red left.

Without thinking, Stiles puts his fingers on the places where the red lines originate. Derek shudders at the touch but Stiles ignores it, wiping his index fingers along one of the tiny streaks and coming away with a slightly larger patch on his finger tip. He resists the urge to lick it to confirm his suspicion that it’s blood but only just. His features crease up momentarily in disgust at the thought of it. He tries to smell it but gets nothing.

Once more he rubs the places where Derek should be injured but somehow isn’t, as if he might find a wound under that perfect skin if he just looks hard enough. All the while the object of his scrutiny holds perfectly still.

“What are you?” It comes out soft, awed and quite without volition.

There’s a long silence while neither of them moves, apart from Stiles’s fingers trailing Derek's back absent-mindedly. Then Derek snaps, “Still not an It!”

Suddenly Stiles becomes aware of what he’s doing and what he said. His hand jerks away from Derek and he turns abruptly to find the promised shirt in his closet. The only one that looks like it would even remotely fit Derek's bulkier frame is the one with the blue and orange stripes.

He stalks back over to Derek, who’s still facing the wall and inelegantly dangles the shirt in his line of vision. All of a sudden being this close to a half-naked Derek or even just in the same room with him seems disconcerting. It occurs to him that this is a potentially awkward situation although Derek appears wholly unaware. He’s obviously not as self-conscious about his body as Stiles is about his own.

Stiles scuttles to his chair and averts his eyes from a view he’s had by the hundreds in the locker room at school – albeit with Derek a recent addition – without once thinking anything of it. He’s seen guys half-naked, towel-clad or fully nude before with no reaction whatsoever. He’s seen Scott without clothes dozens of times. They used to have peeing contests and once or twice the teenage variation of ‘whose spunk goes farther’. This is the first time Stiles feels embarrassed about more than not measuring up to someone who’s lucked out in the looks department.

Derek finally pulls the t-shirt over his head and then gives Stiles a very clear _‘are you kidding me’_ look. He pulls the fabric away by his body with his thumb and forefinger and lets it snap back tight. “This is the best you can do?”

“Yeah, let’s focus on the really important shirt here, why don’t we? It’s the colors of the Mets, by the way, so shut up. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Derek glowers at him.

“You were bleeding, possibly burned but now there’s not a scratch on you. Don’t tell me that’s normal.”

“I’ve no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Stiles puts as much sarcasm into that one word as he can muster. “I just add it to the list then, shall I?”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “What list?”

“Well, let’s see.” Stiles makes a show of shuffling some papers about on his desk and picks up a to-do-list he’s been compiling to keep track of his homework. Although Derek doesn’t know that and Stiles doesn’t actually need a reminder. This isn’t something he could possibly forget as he’s been obsessing about it for days. “First there’s instant healing powers… then we have extra strength… super speed and oh, let’s not forget glow-in-the-dark eyes, blue ones no less… Did I get everything?”

The set of Derek's jaw is rigid. “You’re nuts,” he presses out, barely comprehensible between his clenched teeth.

“Yes, of course, this stuff happens to the best of us. Shall we call it symptoms of puberty? Side-effects of living in the middle of the woods? Maybe it’s a new disease. We could name it ‘Red Riding Hood Syndrome’ or something.”

Stiles stops when he becomes aware of Derek's panicked eyes. Either Derek thinks Stiles has gone crazy for real and is worried about his safety in close proximity to a madman or Stiles is onto something. He softens his voice. “Hey, I’m not judging. So far I have vampire, werewolf, angel lineage or demon spawn, cyborg and AI. All of which are totally awesome in my book, honest.”

“There are no…” Derek starts then stops, much to Stiles’s chagrin.

“There are no what? _What?_ ”

Without another look or word Derek picks up his school stuff, but Stiles manages to get in front of the door. He feels that if Derek leaves now he’ll never have another chance to get to the bottom of this. “There are no _what_? What were you gonna say?”

Suddenly Derek, who’s always been softly spoken and equally mannered, doesn’t look so gentle anymore. There’s something radiating from his body, not in the physical sense but nonetheless almost palpable, and it makes Stiles heartbeat speed up with fear. “I’m getting out the way,” he stammers in a placating voice and hastily does so.

Derek tears the door open and almost runs down the stairs without another word.

“What were you gonna say?” Stiles shouts at the retreating footsteps from the safety of his bedroom. “Finish the damn sentence, you fucking coward!” He has to admit that part of him is very glad when Derek just keeps going.

So this is why Jackson Whittemore is so scared of Derek Hale – because he’s fucking scary when he wants to be.

 

 

A couple of hours later Stiles goes out for some food to the new organic place on Main Street. The town is buzzing with the news of what happened at the high school and Stiles becomes aware for the first time how deeply it frightened a lot of people. The only reason he’s so nonchalant about it is because he was in the middle of the action and knew it was no worse than a chemistry experiment gone wrong the whole time.

There’s a queue at the counter and while he’s waiting Stiles suddenly recognizes the voice that’s entertaining the other customers with a pretty accurate description of the events. Harris! The best course of action would be to turn on his heels and leave but he’s loath to let his teacher deprive him of the food he was looking forward to. Even the salads are amazing here.

So he tries to make himself a little smaller behind the big burly guy in front of him and tries to tune Harris out with similar lack of success. Eventually the man is finished talking and a female praises his cool head for saving the lives of his pupils. Stiles snorts because apart from telling everyone to get out Harris did zilch.

But then he recognizes the voice or thinks he does and peers around burly biker guy in front of him to check. Yep, it’s Kate alright, smiling at her colleague as if he was a superhero. Someone should tell her that Derek was the only heroic one in that room – or better not, she doesn’t need any more encouragement to pounce on Derek. Harris suits her so much better. They deserve each other. Only… they walk out together, not noticing Stiles, who has his back turned to them and his head bent low over his phone and when Stiles follows them with his eyes, he can see Kate's face behind Harris’s back. It's set like a stone. Yeah, he thought so. Kate’s definitely out of Harris’s league and is very obviously playing him. Well, it’s obvious _to Stiles_ who’s always been very good at reading people. It’s a skill he needed to develop to combat his anxiety. The question is what does she want from Harris? Not that it matters as long as it means that she leaves Derek alone.

When he saunters into the sheriff station, Sarah, who’s at the reception, waves him through and asks about what happened at school. As Stiles is never one to pass up an occasion to talk, he tells her in minute detail.

“I’m glad everyone’s okay,” she says. “We were all quite worried when we got the call. An incident at the school… you know what everyone thought.”

Stiles can imagine and when he goes in to see his father, he makes sure to give him a long hug to reassure them both. By the way his embrace is returned the feeling seems to be mutual. Without a word Stiles tries to convey his apologies for not realizing sooner how worried out of his mind his father must have been.

“What are you doing here?” his dad finally asks. “Where’s Derek?”

For a moment it’s disconcerting that the question isn’t _where’s-Scott_ like it has been for the past few years. When did that happen? “He had to go home.” Stiles pulls some containers out of his rucksack and spreads them on the desk. “I brought food.”

“And that would be the reason you’re my favorite son.”

“It’s salad and veggie burgers.”

“In that case you’ve just fallen out of favor.”

Stiles just grins. It’s all so normal. The banter. The conversation that follows about what happened at school. The familiar noises of the sheriff station, with the ringing phones, the remarks between the deputies, the whirring of the mini fridge in the corner. It makes him wonder if he’s going crazy. Maybe he should talk to his dad about this. But how can he possibly say _I think Derek Hale isn’t quite human_ without worrying his father about his state of mind? There’s always that thin line between his anxiety, ADHD and general weirdness and the other side, where his mother’s illness may well be hereditary, the dark side that they don’t talk about.

After their meal his dad gets a call and rather than listen in as he normally would, Stiles gets up and, indicating that he needs to pee, he walks out of the office. He turns towards the washroom but carries on walking until he comes to the storeroom. It’s not locked as it doesn’t contain anything that’s considered sensitive or worth stealing.

Over the years Stiles has spent a lot of time at the police station, usually when there was only a little bit of time between the end of school and the finish of his father’s shift, so it wasn’t worth getting a babysitter. Of course, sometimes there would be an urgent call and the half an hour he was supposed to be here, turned into much longer and he was as inquisitive as a child as he is now.

So Stiles knows the station like the back of his hand. He knows all the deputies and their personal foibles. Sarah, for example, doesn’t mind him roaming around and looking into every nook and cranny. She never did, as long as he tidied up after he emptied the cupboards to see what interesting items might be stored at the back. It means that he’s safe from her scrutiny for a good long while right now.

What he has in mind won’t take long at any rate. He finds the bottles of Luminol where they’ve always been. He still has the scar from when he cut half his finger off once because he wanted to see how the stuff works and there’s nothing like realistic experiments. He needed five stitches.

He pulls the shirt Derek left in his room earlier from under his own shirt. Never let it be said that Stiles isn’t thorough in his investigations. He gives the shirt a good spraying and switches off the light. The storeroom has no window and in the dark he can clearly see the fluorescent rings on the back where the holes are. He grins broadly and mutters, “Gotcha!”

 

*******

There’s one thing Derek knows for sure: he cannot tell Stiles about being a werewolf. He cannot tell anyone. Only the Alpha is allowed to decide who’s trustworthy enough to know the truth. To put it in terms Stiles would appreciate: First rule about being a werewolf: do not talk about being a werewolf; second rule about being a werewolf… and so on and so forth. Stiles would get a kick out of it if Derek put it this way. They share a same sense of humor and a love for pop culture references.

When he dated Paige, he wanted to tell her because it seemed the thing to do. Peter said so and Derek still believed then that Peter was mostly right and had his best interests at heart. Now he’s not so sure about either. But what he does know is that he wants Stiles to know. He can’t even say why it’s important only that it is and this time it has nothing to do with what ‘the thing to do’ might be. It’s a temptation, almost a need, that he has to contain whenever they’re together.

As expected it’s pretty obvious that he’s making a hash of it. On the one hand he shows off in front of Stiles in the vain hope that somehow he’ll miraculously guess that Derek's a werewolf and then accept it as normal. But then when Stiles _did_ guess – miraculously or otherwise, because werewolf was definitely on the list of possible explanations he recited – Derek got scared more than he'd have anticipated. What if Stiles took it badly? What if he told other people? What if he wanted nothing more to do with Derek because he’s a freak? What if he was okay with it, like Paige had been, but it cost him his life, like it did her? He can’t even think about that.

None of that takes into account how furious his mother would be. No, he can’t risk it after all. He can’t risk Stiles. Because Stiles means too much to him and if keeping him safe means staying away from him then so be it.

However, the next day he finds himself at the same lunch table he’s been sitting at for two weeks now. Stiles isn’t there yet but there’s a space left between Derek and Scott and it just goes to show how quickly habits develop. Up until the winter break Derek found it easy to forego company and have his food in the library or outside. Now he’s trying to make himself leave before Stiles arrives and fails miserably. Surely it can't do any harm to exchange a few words with him every day?

Finally Stiles turns up and flops in the seat next to Derek dropping a plastic bag on Derek's lunch tray. “You forgot your shirt in my room.”

“Wow, that isn’t suggestive at all,” Jackson snorts from three chairs down the table.

“Shut up, Jackson!” Derek and Stiles say in unison and in exactly the same annoyed tone and the whole table erupts in laughter.

Derek picks up the bag but doesn’t open it, just crinkling his nose at the strange smell. Whatever did Stiles do to his shirt?

“Seriously?” Stiles says and he looks and sounds furious. “Smell, too? Are you being serious right now?”

“What?” Derek says, feigning innocence, but knowing exactly what he means. Normal people can't detect smells through plastic bags.

Stiles shakes his head and gets back up so forcefully his chair falls over. Scott puts it upright for him and looks first at Stiles’s retreating back, then at Derek. “What did you do?” he asks genuinely upset.

“I didn’t do anything.”

Scott nods although his expression remains unconvinced and then, with an apologetic and regretful look at Allison, follows Stiles out of the room. Derek's suddenly no longer hungry.

 

 

He doesn’t see Stiles until Wednesday in English. Well, he sees him, but Stiles makes it very clear that he doesn’t want to be approached by slowly and deliberately turning his back. Derek feels dejected and even more so when he thinks that he and Stiles have only been friends or whatever they are - _were_ \- for half a month. It really shouldn’t hurt this much.

But wasn’t this what he wanted? Stiles at a safe distance? Yeah, that plan was so much more satisfying when it was supposed to be Derek who sacrificed his own comfort and emotions for Stiles’s benefit. Now that Stiles simply wants nothing to do with him it makes him feel like shit.

Laura notices it, too. He supposes the whole family does, but only Laura would say something about it. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, kiss and make up or something?” she asks exasperatedly when she parks the Camaro on Wednesday morning after the drive to school passed in complete silent.

“I don’t know what or who you’re talking about.”

“Of course, you don’t. Just pack it in. You’re like a bear with a sore paw.”

“You’ve never seen a bear with a sore paw.”

“I don’t have to. I have you to demonstrate.”

He gets out of the car and walks away without a word, ignoring her sigh that’s beginning to sound a lot like their mother’s. After the months of withdrawal his family must have been glad to see him come out of his shell a bit. And just as he finds it harder to go back to being reclusive than it would have been to simply stay that way, they must find it harder to see him go back in. It makes him feel guilty for putting that on them after everything else he's made them go through last year.

But he fucking hurts.

It doesn’t come as a complete surprise that Stiles chooses to sit far away from him in English. He’s way at the back and the seat next to Derek remains empty as if everyone is conspiring to make him feel awkward.

Derek can practically feel Kate watching him as he doesn’t pay attention and has no answers when she calls on him in class. After the lesson she asks him to wait and when everyone’s left the classroom, she asks, “What’s the matter? You look upset.”

“It’s nothing.” It _should_ be nothing.

“Do you want to meet up and talk about… nothing?” she smiles.

For the first time in the last couple of days, Derek feels a little cheered up. He nods not quite mastering a smile. “Sure, why not?”

“Good, I’ll wait for you after lacrosse.”

Chemistry is held in a different room, as the old one is still out of commission, although apparently more water-damaged than anything the explosion caused. Harris spends the first half of the lesson deriding Greenberg at every opportunity. The school only has two Chemistry labs, so there will have to be less practical work. Derek is almost as annoyed about it as Harris appears to be because it means that in future Stiles won’t have a reason to sit next to him.

If he ever wanted to know if Stiles would choose to work with him without Harris’s intervention the answer’s very evident now. Stiles is sulking. There’s no greeting and no chatter and the only eye contact is a hasty averting of the eyes on the rare occasions Derek catches him looking. It’s almost comical. Stiles even pouts through most of the lesson, getting the ingredients for the small experiment at the end and dropping them haphazardly on the table with more noise than necessary.

“If you could try not to destroy this lab as well, Mr Stilinski,” Harris admonishes from the front as if the destruction of the last one was Stiles's fault. But then again, in Harris's books pretty much everything is.

Stiles cracks his knuckles most likely to stop himself from giving Harris a well-deserved middle finger, but he remains silent.

Derek should be angry. What did he do that was so terrible? So he didn’t want to tell Stiles his deepest, darkest secret. It’s not as if Stiles has an automatic right to be told, nobody does and it’s not Derek’s place to talk about it in the first place. But somehow Derek isn’t angry, he’s... he doesn’t know how he feels. Stiles’s exaggerated irritation with him, accompanied by aggravated huffs of breath, makes it seem like he wants to be annoyed but can’t quite pull it off, like he’s playing at it and that’s just... sweet somehow.

Losing track of time and his surroundings in general, Derek watches Stiles set up the experiment and notices for the first time how long and slim his fingers are. It’s an effort not to take hold of them simply because he wants to. Surprised he looks into Stiles’s face, at his lips still forming a slight pout, making them look extra full and curved and at his warm brown eyes that are suddenly focused on him.

“What?” Stiles snaps. “You can be Mr Silent Brooding _for months_ and I can’t be quiet for _one lesson_ without you looking at me as if I killed your puppy?”

Derek frowns. “My girlfriend died,” he says without inflection. Surely there’s a huge difference between that and Stiles being in a huff.

“Did she? Wow, and you’re still milking that one?”

And that’s it. Stiles turns back to the experiment and while Derek would have thumped anyone else who made that kind of remark to him, he realizes several things. One: while it could have been the most vicious thing anyone ever said to him, Stiles somehow managed to make it sound like he understood what Derek went through but didn’t want to acknowledge it because he’s angry with him right now. Like he knows Derek had a much better reason to be reticent but today he pretends that he doesn’t care. And that means that he _does_ understand.

Two: Derek is grateful that Stiles treats him like he’s no different from anyone else. If he was talking to Jackson he would say something like _and you’re still milking the fact that you’re adopted_? He has a knack for finding people’s weak spots that’s uncanny. His refusal to consider that Derek may be suffering or in any way delicate, makes Derek realize how far he’s come and how much he wants to be treated like everyone else again, by everyone, but especially by Stiles.

And three: the hollow appearing at the top of his stomach makes him aware with a disorienting abruptness that he’s head over heels in love with this guy and that’s just... oh, _fuck_.

 

 

He barely gets through the lacrosse practice because his eyes keep wandering over to Stiles, which is okay during the fitness section but a little ridiculous during the game. With Stiles warming the bench again, Derek is completely distracted by his new revelation. At one point he almost gets hit by the ball but catches it two inches from his head without looking. Of course, that's almost the only time that Stiles is actually paying him any attention and he shakes his head as if Derek's doing this to piss him off.

After lacrosse he almost forgets that he’s meeting Kate but remembers when he sees her car still in the parking lot. He’d much rather go for a run and have time to think and regroup but gets into the passenger nonetheless.

Half an hour later, they’re sitting on her couch, each with a drink in their hand and he’s glad he came. If he wants to be normal again, he needs to do something.

“So what happened with Stiles?” she asks.

“What?” For a moment he wonders if she noticed his feelings. Is it that obvious? Does everyone know? Does Stiles?

“You two have been together ever since I got here, and today you didn’t even speak to each other. Also, you’re kind of upset so I’m thinking something happened. Did you have a fight?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean? What happened?”

He has to remind himself that by coming here he’s given her tacit permission to ask questions. It’s kind of the point of what they’re doing but it’s still difficult for him. In the past few months he’s been allowed to withdraw from everything and everyone. It’s not easy to go back to sharing with other people. His experience with Stiles being a case in point.

“Let’s say that if… hypothetically, I did something in the past that was bad. Would it be possible to have a relationship with someone without telling them? Or would that be some kind of betrayal because I would be pretending to be someone I’m not?”

“It depends if what you did concerns the other person. You don’t need to tell everyone everything about yourself.”

“But for a relationship to be meaningful it needs to be honest.”

“Does it? I think it really depends on what you did. Was amoral, illegal, heinous?”

Derek doesn’t know how to answer that.

She smiles. “If it was something illegal, I'd strongly suggest staying away from Stiles. His dad’s the sheriff after all.”

“My mother is a judge,” he reminds her.

“Yes, but she’s also your mother so she might not feel too bad about covering for you.”

Wow, that’s more than a little too close for comfort. He nervously turns his soda can in his hand, wondering what to say next.

“You know, Stiles may not be such a great choice for you anyway.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve watched you two together and it seems very one-sided to me. He’s much more into Scott. He’s just using you for something.”

“Like what?” It comes out more vehement than expected as he instinctively wants to defend Stiles.

She shrugs. “There’s always something you can get from other people if you’re ruthless enough.” 

“Stiles isn’t ruthless.”

“Maybe not but he’s also not your friend. You probably can’t see it because you’re too close. But it’s pretty obvious for an outsider. Do you have any other friends?”

Is that what it is? Is he zeroing in on Stiles because he’s the only person outside his family he’s in contact with? The speed with which he’s gotten used to his company and come to anticipate it with pleasure is amazing to the point of being incomprehensible. It’s not as if he hasn’t known the guy, albeit from a distance, since he started high school. Surely he would have noticed the attraction before now if it was real? Is he just hungering for intimacy?

He jumps a little when Kate puts a soft hand on his forearm. She’s put her drink down and is smiling. “You have other options, Derek. You don’t need Stiles. You’re a great guy. Anybody would be glad to be your friend. A _real_ friend… or more…”

Somehow he can’t avert his eyes from hers. Is she right? Is it just a matter of exploring other options? He’s certainly happy enough to be here with her, up close and personal. The look between them lingers and when she leans towards him, he meets her halfway.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

**10**

 

“Stiles!” Scott says in a voice that makes it clear that he’s been trying to get his attention for a while.

“Huh?” Stiles _isn’t_ thinking about Derek getting into Kate’s car after lacrosse. He didn’t see that and if he did, by complete chance, he didn’t pay any attention whatsoever. And even if he did pay attention, he doesn’t care, not one bit. He’s not worried what the woman is up to and he’s most certainly not envious that Derek might tell her stuff he would never share with Stiles. Nope, not at all. He’s definitely not even a little bit thinking about Derek-fucking-Hale.

“Earth to Stiles.”

“Yes! What do you want?”

Scott actually flinches a little in the passenger seat of the Jeep, taken aback by his harsh tone. “I was asking about the dance.”

“Sorry,” Stiles apologizes honestly. “I was miles away. What dance?”

“The Winter Formal?”

“That’s ages away. What about it?” Last year he and Scott both went stag, which isn’t too bad when your best friend’s doing it with you. And since it’s more than likely that Lydia will be going with Jackass Whittemore again, he assumed he and Scott would do the same as before. But, of course, Scott’s situation has changed. Stiles sighs loudly. “I suppose this is where you tell me that you’ll be going with Allison this year. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

Scott’s already starting with the puppy dog eyes. “Actually, we kind of need your help with that.”

Immediately sensing nefarious shenanigans Stiles beams at him. “A secret plan? I’m in.”

“We want you to take Allison to the dance. As her date. Then her parents will think she’s moved on and I can meet her there. You’d just have to pick her up.”

Having imagined daring rescue plans involving sneaking out of her room via rooftops and needing a getaway driver, Stiles shakes his head. “No, that’s…” He doesn’t finish the sentence because he doesn’t really have a reason to refuse, other than not wanting to be exposed to Mr. Argent’s extra thorough scrutiny, but the whole idea somehow doesn’t sit right with him.

“But then she’d also have a good excuse to say no to other guys. Come on, you know there’ll be a ton of guys asking her. It’ll be awkward for her to say no all the time. This way she can say she already has a date and it’ll work for her parents, too.”

“But they know we’re best friends. They’ll smell a rat.”

“How would they know that?”

“Duh. Her aunt is our English teacher? Use your brain.”

Now Scotty’s puppy-dog eyes are turned up to full force.

Stiles sighs again. “I’ll think about it,” he says, his own version of puppy-dog eyes, meaning _I really don’t want to, so please don’t make me_. It’ll make Scott rethink his plan until one of them gives in and agrees without further prompting. That’s how it always works with them.

Or _not_.

“You’re the best,” Scott says with finality and hops out of the car to start his shift at Deaton’s.

“I haven’t agreed yet,” Stiles yells, _after_ Scott’s already disappeared into the surgery. Taking someone on a fake date just to deliver them to their real date seems worse than not having a date in the first place. It also means that he can’t ask anyone else. Or agree if someone asks him. After a few moments’ thought, he snorts. Yeah, like that’ll ever happen!

When he gets home, he still feels out of sorts. His relationship with Scott is based on honesty and full disclosure. There’s nothing he couldn’t talk to Scott about because Scott would never judge him. They know each other inside and out, figuratively speaking, or so he thought. Recently Scott has become more remote as he’s focused solely on Allison. Stiles isn’t even sure if he would like all the details of what they get up to together. At some point sharing and supporting can turn into voyeurism by proxy.

What bugs him the most though is that he’s no better a friend than Scott is right now. Somehow he can’t find a way to tell Scott about his suspicions about Derek. He can’t tell anyone because everyone would tell him he’s crazy. Is he losing it? Imaging things? Hallucinating? Sometimes when he wakes up in the morning he’s not so sure.

But then when he sees Derek it all comes back to him. He could maybe dismiss the blue eyes as an illusion and if Derek really had super strength and speed how come he’s the only one noticing? But the magically disappearing injuries? Yeah, he didn’t imagine those. Not with the solid proof of Luminol to satisfy the son of a cop in him. And if those are real, then so are the rest of the clues.

And yet he couldn’t tell Scott even when he asked outright after Stiles stormed out of the school cafeteria at lunch. It’s not just that Scott has less attention to spare for his crazy ideas nowadays or that he wouldn’t be entertaining anything Stiles might suggest – he’s followed Stiles with enthusiasm on the most extraordinary trajectories right into trouble in the past – it’s actually more about Derek. If Derek has some kind of secret of this magnitude, then maybe Stiles shouldn’t be passing that on. Especially now when he can no longer be sure Scott wouldn’t immediately share it with Allison.

He prepares some dinner for when his dad will get in and realizing that he’ll have just enough time to take a quick shower, he heads upstairs. He’s already halfway into his bedroom when he becomes aware that he’s not alone. It really shouldn’t have taken him this long as Peter Hale is sitting in plain sight at his desk, lounging back in the chair.

Stiles flails back with an embarrassing squeak and uses the momentum to gain the door. “What the fuck!” he yells, feeling marginally safer now that he has an escape route. “What are you doing in my room? How did you get in?”

“You left your window open,” Peter says pleasantly as if that should be obvious and suffice as explanation.

“That’s not an invitation to come in uninvited. Is this a family trait?”

“Ah, has my nephew done the same already? I trained him well.”

“That’s debatable since breaking and entering is not a desirable skill. Or a legal one.”

“I didn’t break.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, no longer feeling quite so threatened but stays in the doorway just the same. “What do you want? Derek's not here.”

“I can see that. Any idea where he is?”

“Are you following me again?”

“Obviously not, since I was here before you, but in general, yes.”

“Why?”

“You seem to be the closest my nephew has to a friend. If he’s not home, he’s with you. Except for Wednesdays. Which makes me naturally curious.”

“Naturally,” Stiles deadpans. “I’m curious myself: why would you follow _me?_  I mean, if you want to know where _he_ is, wouldn’t it make more sense to follow _him_ instead of poor, innocent, ignorant me?”

Peter’s smile remains mild. “I’m not familiar with your financial status but you’re neither innocent nor ignorant. Although you try hard to give that impression. The reason I’m not following him is because he’d notice. You on the other hand…”

“Like I said, innocent and ignorant...” Stiles grins.

Peter tilts his head. “Are you expecting your father home?”

Even if Stiles didn’t, he would say _yes_ and Peter probably knows that, but a few moments later Stiles can actually hear his dad’s cruiser pull into the driveway. “Yes, I do.” His smirk is genuine because he feels much safer with his father nearby.

A moment later the front door opens and there are the familiar noises of his dad entering the house. Using silent hand gestures, Peter beckons Stiles to come in and close the door as there comes a familiar shout up the stairs. “I’m home. Are you?”

With a shit-eating grin and holding Peter’s gaze all the way, Stiles yells back, “I’m upstairs. There’s someone in my room. Bring your gun.”

He didn’t know his father could move that fast but he’s right next to him less than twenty seconds later, gun drawn and pulling him out of the doorway by his arm. Nevertheless Peter is twice as fast. Within a second or two he’s by the window and diving through the opening head first. It reminds Stiles of how fast Derek is. _Very_ interesting.

“He went out the window.” Although he’s accompanied various members of the sheriff’s department including the man himself on numerous occasions, Stiles has never witnessed any real action. This is only the second time he’s seen his dad draw his weapon with intent and he’s a little in awe of how he enters the room cautiously, and then moves to the window, securing to either side of it before he pokes his head out.

“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you? Was he armed?” He holsters his gun and comes to inspect his son for injuries.

“I was just startled. You’re a real badass, Dad!”

“Well, thank you, son. I have to call this in.”

“No need. I recognized him. It was Peter Hale.”

“Peter Hale broke into our house?”

Stiles shrugs. “I think it may have been a prank. But I was just scared so I called you up here.”

“You did the right thing. Well, if you’re sure, I’ll have a word with Talia about it. No need to make it official.”

Stiles nods and hopes Peter will be in hot water. As his dad walks past him, he gives him a long hug which Stiles returns in kind.

“I made dinner,” Stiles says eventually but goes and locks his window before making his way downstairs.

 

 

The next day he can’t make up his mind whether to speak to Derek or not. He wants to stomp over to him and tell him in no uncertain terms to keep his family away from him – and himself, too, while he’s at it. But then he would have to stop his silent treatment and if he does that, Derek might take it as an overture to start speaking to him again and quite frankly Stiles doesn’t know if he could refrain from responding. Not talking isn’t exactly his MO under normal circumstances.

There’s a part of him – a rather large and insistent part – that _wants_ to speak to Derek, wants to be friends again, misses his company. Trying to dismiss that as simply being bored without Scott doesn’t work. Stiles’s personality doesn’t allow him to simply ignore things or deceive himself in a positive way. He _likes_ Derek. He wants to be friends, wants him in his life, thinks about him way more than is good for him. But without honesty that’s not gonna work. He can’t simply disregard the fact that Derek is harboring a secret that he won’t share with him. That’s not how friendship works, not for him. Don’t get him wrong: he _will_ find out what Derek’s hiding if it kills him, but it won’t mean anything if it doesn’t come from Derek himself.

He’s alright at school, he really is. With Scott and Allison keeping their relationship low key, Scott’s spending most of his time with him. A few times, they use him as a messenger which Stiles finds a little over the top since they’re still all sharing a lunch table and could talk then. Stiles feels less like part of the group than ever. This is so not his crowd.

Derek still sits with them but never next to Stiles any longer and has lapsed back into selective mutism. So Stiles is just fine. However, when he sits down in English on Friday, after dropping his Chemistry report on Derek's desk without a word, he watches Kate walk into the room like the school is a catwalk and exchange a smile with Derek that sets all his nerve endings on edge. Something happened between Derek and Kate, he just knows it, something more than therapy. The way Derek dips his head, half hiding his smile as if he’s shy, just screams, _I’m screwing the teacher._ Stiles wishes he didn’t find it cute – the smile, not the boning. It’s like when Lydia does something particularly awesome and it’s aimed at Jackson. Why do the people he likes waste themselves on someone so obviously inferior and undeserving? And why did he just compare Derek to the love of his life?

To distract himself, he turns and calls Allison’s name. She looks up from where she’s sitting three chairs over.

“Have you thought about my question?”

Allison smiles, understanding his intent immediately. “About being your date for the dance?”

“Yes, that one.”

“Yes, I’ll be your date.”

As he anticipated, their conversation has attracted most people’s attention including that of Derek and Kate. Both look thrown off balance in their own way. Stiles grins broadly basking for the first time in the envy and admiration that comes with looking confident and being successful. It’s easy to be self-assured when you know you won’t get turned down and publicly humiliated. This is what it must feel like to be Jackson, or Lydia, or Danny, or… Derek. He’d bet any money Derek never got turned down by anyone in his life.

He didn’t discuss his little performance with either Scott or Allison in advance but decided on the spur of the moment that this would kill several birds with one stone. Kate is now a witness to tell her family that Allison has indeed agreed to go to the Winter Formal with Stiles, hopefully convincing them that Scott's out of the picture. Broadcasting it across the room saves Allison from having to turn down other guys because it will spread around the school like wildfire. And Derek can see that Stiles doesn’t need his company. As an added bonus, Stiles scores a few points to increase his social status. He loves it when a plan comes together.

 

*******

 

Derek walks away from Kate’s apartment with slow, measured steps, trying his hardest not to speed up before he turns the corner and dives into the nearest alley. There he slumps against the wall, half-hidden from the road by a dumpster, and takes deep calming breaths. His hand comes up without volition and his trembling fingers touch his lips which are still tingling from prolonged kissing.

He likes kissing. He has liked kissing from the first kiss he’s ever received. There’s something intimate about it, or at least there should be. He and Paige made out a lot. In fact, apart from holding hands and spending a lot of time together on their own, making out was what made them an item. If he told anyone about that, they would probably say what a gentleman he is. Well, he isn’t. He never pushed for anything further with Paige because he didn’t need anything further.

They called it _taking it slow_ but he knows Paige was ready for the next step, if not more, for a while. He _wasn’t_. While he loved Paige in his own way, she wasn’t as important to him in the way the exclusive time they spent together would have suggested. She was sassy and smart and called him on all his shit and so they were also friends and that often seemed more pertinent than being a couple. When he thinks about Paige nowadays, he misses his friend more than his girlfriend.

It was Peter who suggested she was the love of his life; Peter who said Derek needed to make her safe by letting her be turned. Ever since he moved in with them, it was almost impossible for Derek to stand up to Peter, whom he’d hero-worshipped even before that. Peter’s the only other male family member in his age range and he’s just old enough to have ‘been there, done that’ when Derek is still finding his way.

But despite everything Peter talked about, despite the questions about ‘how far’ Derek had gotten with Paige, Derek now believes that he and Paige would have been better off as friends _without_ benefits. It showed in how slow he insisted on going with her and because she was a decent person she never pressured him either. Maybe she even felt the same way.

And today Kate kissed him – or he kissed her, he’s not sure, but he definitely kissed back. The whole time, all he could think about was that she’s older than him and more experienced and does she think he’s fumbling or bad at it? It just made him nervous and when her hand tugged at his shirt, he allowed for a bit but then abruptly broke the connection and she laughed.

“Too fast?” she smiled with amusement. “You’re such a child. But it’s okay. We can go at your pace.”

He nodded and then, suddenly uncomfortable, somehow he managed to stammer out an excuse and make it out the door. He feels like an idiot now. He _is_ an idiot. All he had to do was hold still and then he would know if sex is as good as it sounds when the guys in locker room brag about it or as great as Peter claims when he talks about his numerous conquests.

He slides down the wall and sits in the dirt. He always assumed that what he’s feeling when other people talk about sex is envy or impatience to join the club. But it really isn’t. The embarrassment that he feels is not about still being a virgin, it’s second-hand because talking about the sex you had to boast about it is pretty pathetic, not to mention degrading for the person you had it with. He never wanted to become like that. He wants his relationships to mean something beyond curiosity or merely another behavior that men follow without thinking.

He doesn’t like deceiving people and he most definitely wants to know them before going further. Only… he doesn’t really want to know Kate better. She’s not that intriguing to him and there would be no point. Because they’re not going to ride off into the sunset together, are they? He doesn’t even bemoan the fact that they can’t because he doesn’t really want to. What he wants is ride off into the sunset with Stiles.

Would he have had sex with her if Stiles wasn’t in the picture? Possibly. Very likely even. But Stiles _is_ in the picture. Indeed he _fills_ the whole picture. Derek can’t really see anything but him. Is this because Stiles doesn’t want him? He doesn’t think so. Because, yes, he loves kissing, any form of it but when he thinks about doing it, it’s always with Stiles now.

Still, he feels like a kid right now. Peter has always told him that you need to seize any opportunity that presents itself, especially where sex is concerned. And Peter has a knack for making him feel small and childish and young from up there on his pedestal of his three extra years’ life experience. He hates that feeling, always has and always will and nobody can make him feel like that as effortlessly as Peter can.

Except Kate just managed it, too, and she didn’t need to try very hard either. And just like he did with Peter for the longest time, he didn’t want to feel silly and immature so he kissed her back and he didn't say that he didn't really feel like kissing her. Now he wishes it never happened. He needs a therapist a lot more than anything else Kate has to offer but he’s not sure if they can go back to that. Would she laugh at him if he suggested it? Why does he always fuck everything up so completely and utterly?

He gets up, wiping the dirt from the back of his jeans and wishing he could talk to someone about what happened. No, scratch that. All he wants is talk to _Stiles_ about it. But, of course, that’s not going to happen, so he does the next best thing: he runs home, jogging while he’s still in town, flat out sprinting when he gets into the woods. It does make him feel better. A little.

 

 

The next day he avoids Kate at school. It’s not very difficult because, hey, werewolf senses and he doesn’t have English on Thursdays. It would be even easier if he could just withdraw to the library or outside during breaks but he can’t bring himself to do that because if he sits with the others in the cafeteria, then Stiles will also be there. He suspects Stiles isn't there on his own accord. He’s there for Scott, who uses recess to gaze longingly at Allison although they no longer sit next to each other. Or maybe Stiles is there for Lydia. Whatever the reason is, it’s not for Derek.

But if Derek times it just right, he can arrive just slightly after Stiles and get a seat on the opposite side of the table where he can see him even if he's several seats removed. Stiles shovels food indiscriminately, listens to the conversation with frequently rolling eyes and doesn’t say much except to Scott and occasionally Allison.

However, sometimes when he thinks he’s unobserved he looks over to Derek only to turn away hastily when Derek looks back. And when Derek gets caught doing the same, Derek averts his eyes just as quickly. So it’s a matter of, _I look at you but you’re not looking. You look at me but I’m not looking, but somehow we see each other looking._ Maybe it means that not all is lost. Whatever it means, it’s the highlight of his otherwise bleak days.

In the evening he writes his Chemistry report for the experiment from the previous day – _was that really only yesterday?_ – but it proves pointless because Stiles did one as well, which he drops onto Derek's desk in English on Friday without saying a word or looking at him.

And Derek can no longer avoid Kate. She gives him a smirk as she walks in and he lowers his head with an embarrassed smile. Yeah, he really needs to have that conversation with her that he would really, _really_ like to avoid and sooner rather than later.

Then he gets distracted by Stiles asking Allison to the dance. Something about it sounds staged to him but he can't detect any lies. It seems strange that Stiles would go after his best friend’s girl and Scott looks not nearly as upset about it as Derek would have expected. Stiles preens a little when she accepts so readily and Derek can’t help but think that he deserves to have people see him like that. In general, Stiles gets dismissed far too easily. He really can’t understand how someone as smart and funny as Stiles is not the most popular guy in the school. How can Lydia Martin prefer Jackson White-Mess to him?

Apparently Allison is not as blind and dumb. She snatched him up pretty quickly after a short diversion in the shape of Scott and while Derek has to give her credit for that, he somehow wishes she hadn’t. On the other hand there’s no indication whatsoever that Stiles is interested in dating a guy, despite the occasional flirty remark. After all he’s had a persistent crush on Lydia for years now. So what difference does it make whom he's dating?

At the end of the lesson he tries to flee the room before Kate can speak to him but she calls him back. Stiles walks past him, shaking his head and Derek doesn’t need to make eye contact to know it’s a commentary on his – or her – conduct – or both. When everybody’s left the room, Kate smiles at him and he feels immediately bad for kissing her when he has feelings for someone else. That’s pretty shitty behavior. She’s too nice to deserve that and she must really like him if she risks her job and more to be with him.

“I’m sorry if I came on a little strong, sweetie. I promise it won’t happen again. Do you want to meet at the weekend?”

“Can’t,” he mumbles not daring to look at her and adds the first excuse that comes to mind. “We have a family thing at the weekend.”

“ _Another_ one? Really? Are all your aunts and uncles coming again?”

He doesn’t want to lie more than necessary so he shakes his head. “No, just my parents and my siblings.” For a moment, it seems to him as if she looks disappointed, but, then again, he would expect her to be disappointed if she was hoping to see him.

“Shall we meet on Wednesday again then?”

He sighs and nods. “After lacrosse.” He really can’t avoid this forever but maybe by Wednesday he’ll have come up with something to say that doesn’t sound too cruel or too juvenile. Luckily prudence prevents any show of affection in this situation and he manages to leave the room with not much more than a brief smile and a mumbled goodbye.

 

 

The weekend is excruciating. He spends all his time thinking about Stiles. What is he doing right now? Is he with Allison? What are they doing together? He almost wishes there _was_ ‘a family thing’ so that there was some distraction but the only person demanding his attention is Peter, who keeps asking about Stiles. Eventually his mother picks up the thread and inquires why Stiles hasn’t come back to visit yet.

Derek shrugs. “He’s busy. I’m busy.”

Peter’s eyes narrow. “You’re busy with what? The only time you go anywhere that isn’t school or lacrosse is on Wednesday… to meet Stiles.”

There’s something in the way Peter says it that convinces Derek that Peter knows full well that he doesn’t meet Stiles on Wednesdays. He should find out if Peter has bothered Stiles again this week. Or even better he should break it off with Kate and then he’ll never have to worry again about Peter finding out. Nothing good ever comes from Peter knowing too much about Derek's life.

 

 

School has turned into a chore again. For a couple of weeks he liked going but it was short-lived and stopped when Stiles decided he wasn’t worth his time. Derek misses it. There’s no longer anything to look forward to at school. The closest he comes to Stiles is when they sit together in Chemistry on Monday. But there are no experiments because they’re in an ordinary classroom, not the lab, and while Harris drones on in the front Stiles has no reason to even look at Derek never mind talk to him.

During the breaks he watches Stiles next to Allison and Scott, talking animatedly as he always does. He decides that these remote encounters are enough. Maybe he would be more jealous if Allison and Stiles were more… couple-ly but they might as well just be friends with both of them more focused on Scott than each other. However, they appear to be extremely comfortable together. Maybe they’re just keeping it very low-key in view of how Allison’s parents reacted to her last boyfriend.

Stiles’s standing has definitely improved since he got Allison’s approval. She has become very popular in a very short time not least because of Lydia’s royal endorsement but also because she’s truly beautiful in a far more natural way than most girls here and nice with it. Even Jackson looks at her as if he would make a pass at her if he dared. Hopefully, she’s not stupid enough to take him up on it and liking Scott and Stiles makes it unlikely. You can’t like those two _and_ Jackson, they’re polar opposites – if there were three poles because Scott and Stiles also have not a lot in common apart from being nerdy.

He imagines himself at Stiles’s side instead of Allison or even Scott and can’t imagine anything he’d like more. By comparison, when he tries to picture going public with Kate all he feels is embarrassment on top of all the other implications. He doesn’t want to be associated with her in that way. Any mocking remark would crush him because he’d secretly have to agree. Whereas if he was with Stiles, he wouldn’t care what other people think or say. Yeah, he’s got it bad.

When he sits in Kate’s car again on Wednesday on their way to her apartment he ponders the thought that Stiles somehow foresaw that Kate wanted something other than counseling. How did Derek not see it? Maybe it’s because he wasn’t in love with Stiles at the time – or at least wasn’t aware of it. Well, if all life is a lesson, then he now knows that he isn’t cut out for either polyamory or adultery.

It’s a little disconcerting to sit in the same place as last week, but Kate is further away at the other end of the couch this time.

“Did I frighten you last week?” Her smile is more of a smirk.

Derek has to admit that a teenager fleeing from a kiss is pretty pathetic. What guy turns down sex when it’s offered on a platter? He clears his throat that’s suddenly dry. “I was just reminded of Paige. I’m not over her. I thought I was but I’m apparently not there yet.” Wow, that was a complete and utter lie that he would never get away with at home. But he hopes it will make it easier for her because for a woman it’s supposed to be degrading to be turned down as all guys are supposed to be sex-crazy. He wants to make sure she knows that he’s the problem and she did nothing wrong. He wouldn’t want her to feel bad or unattractive.

There’s a long pause that he spends contemplating a flaw in the floor boards. He’s prepared for tears and willing to comfort as much as he can but somehow he expects angry recriminations more.

Kate’s answer surprises him. “Well, that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? We’ll just continue with the counseling and forget about what happened. Maybe we pick it up again in the future when you’re ready. Or not. It’s up to you.”

His head comes up sharply as he stares at her. His relief over her leveled reaction wars with disappointment. It suddenly occurs to him that he never expected to see Kate after today, except in class, and the idea that he’ll continue to meet with her every week fills him with dread. “Uhm… I’m not sure if I can do that… after what happened.”

Her smile is amused – and so much like Peter’s it’s eerie. “Are you so much of a child still that you can’t look past that? I must have misjudged you. I thought you were more mature.”

His throat closes up a bit more. This is exactly how Peter always makes him feel, so godamn young and childish. “I…” He wants to prove that he’s practically an adult. He turned seventeen at Christmas, for fuck’s sake! He wants to pretend it doesn’t bother him, that he’s cool enough to be alone with her without feeling awkward. But somehow he can’t.

He stands up. “I wouldn’t be comfortable talking to you… about Paige… and stuff…and… what’s the point if I can’t be open… can’t be honest…?” Without looking at her he picks up his schoolbag and makes his way towards the door. “I’m sorry.”

The door's just there. He’s almost made it. Just three more steps and he’ll never have to look Kate in the eyes again. His stomach is doing somersaults because he likes her and he hates hurting people. Everybody always gets hurt around him and Kate has been nothing but kind to him.

“Is this really about Paige?” Kate’s voice comes from behind him and he can hear her get up and walk towards him. “I agree that you need to be honest if you want the counseling to work.”

Thank god, she gets it. He’s tempted to just nod and leave but he’s not that much of a coward and his manners don’t allow him to walk away from anyone in the middle of a conversation. So he turns around, his back to the door and looks her in the eye. “I really am sorry.”

“There’s no need to be, Derek.” Her smile is sweet and comforting. “I just want to help and like I said before, I can be very discreet. So just tell me: is this really about Paige or is this because you’re a werewolf?”

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

**11**

 

It’s shaping up to be a bad week for Stiles.

His relationship with Derek remains non-existent and it’s weighing on him more than he would have expected or would like to admit. He barely knows the guy and yet he finds himself worrying about him and what Kate Argent might be planning, besides the obvious. On top of that, he still tries to keep a close eye on Derek to find any more clues about him. That’s not easy when you’re avoiding eye contact and conversation.

However, much to his surprise what really drags his week into the dumps is Allison. On Monday morning she’s waiting for him just inside the school and pulls him by his shirt sleeve until they’ve reached the relative quiet of the alcove with the fire extinguisher that always makes Stiles’s fingers itch.

“What’s up?” he asks, looking around to see if he can spot Scott anywhere, but maybe he hasn’t arrived yet.

“My parents want to meet you.”

Stiles’s head snaps around from watching Lydia waltz through the double doors like a queen entering her realm. “What? You mean when I pick you up for the dance, right? For that age-old ritual of intimidating your daughter’s date? That’s what you mean, right?”

“No,” she says and she looks like Stiles feels, panicked and half-sick. “They want you to come for dinner on Thursday. To get to know you.”

“No.” He's shaking his head like a bobble head figure. “No, just no. Not doing that. Nope. Njet. Non. Nein. Nay. And once more in Spanish: _no_.”

Scott arrives just in time to hear his answer. “It won’t be too bad, Stiles. Just some food and a little chat. And it’s on Thursday when your dad’s on nights anyway.”

“You knew about this?” It’s a little disappointing that Stiles didn’t get a heads-up from his best friend.

“Alli texted me last night. They won’t bite.”

Stiles puckers his lips angrily. “Well, excuse me if I beg to differ. And I’m sorry, Allison, but I’ve seen your parents and your aunt and none of them inspire me with confidence for my continued survival if I go to that dinner.”

In a competition Allison’s pleading eyes can give Scott’s a run for his money, and then some. “They’re not so bad when you get to know them.”

Stiles catches Scott’s dubious expression and pounces on it. “You told me yourself how awful it was. I’m not good at these things.”

“What things? Eating?” Allison deadpans.

Suppressing a sigh because she made him smile he tries the serious route. “Just think about it. They expect us to be dating. How are we going to pull that off? I’m not a good actor. Especially not under pressure. And just to be practical: how much rehearsing are you planning on doing between today and Thursday? Are we going to hold hands? Be all lovey-dovey? Are we going to make something up about how we got together?”

“Stiles,” Scott says reassuringly. “You can talk your way out of anything. If you can fool your dad then you can fool Allison’s parents.”

Yeah, about that: Stiles is not so sure how much he’s actually fooling his dad on any given occasion. They both have some capacity for ignoring problems until they go away. “I’ll think about it.” He tries not to pay any attention to Scott giving Allison the thumbs up.

 

 

On Thursday he looks at different outfits before deciding that it doesn’t matter and goes with his jeans, t-shirt and plaid shirt combo. If it’s good enough for the Hale barbecue it’s good enough for dinner with the Argents. It’s not as if he needs to make a real effort. If they don’t like him, who cares? What can they do? Forbid Allison to _date_ him?

Allison greets him at the door and despite having talked through all eventualities they could think of all week he’s so glad to have support from the get-go that he determines not to stir from her side for the rest of the evening. He’ll follow her into the bathroom if need be. Jeez, meeting the large Hale family wasn’t as nerve-wracking as this. But then again, the Hales were very welcoming. By comparison this is enemy territory.

He understands straight away what Scott meant when he talked about Allison’s mother. The way she looks at him could curdle milk, despite her outward politeness. Her husband, on the other hand, is displaying a kind of menacing joviality as if inviting him to react in kind just to reproach him – or worse – if he does.

“Do you want a beer?” he says with a smile and narrowed eyes.

“Nah, I don’t drink beer,” Stiles says nonchalantly. “But if you have anything stronger. My poison of choice is Jim Beam. But that’s only when I can’t get any drugs. Drugs are so much more efficient, don’t you think?”

Having turned a shade or two paler, Allison looks at him aghast and her parents both do a double-take.

“Kidding,” he says, grinning widely. “I’m well aware that you’re just testing me. You know I’m not old enough for any of that nor will I ever be where drugs are concerned. My dad’s the sheriff after all. So thank you, Mr. Argent, but a soda will do, if you have one. ”

Allison purses her lips in amusement but neither of her parents seem to get the joke or maybe they’re aware it’s on them. He can hear a laugh behind him though and turns to see Kate come out of what looks like the basement.  

“Hello, Stiles. Nice to see you.”

“Ms Argent,” he nods at her. Nothing will entice him to pretend he’s happy to see her even just to be civil.

“Why don’t you call me Kate for the evening?”

“Because you’re my teacher and that would be weird?” He looks at Allison, who now appears genuinely upset and sighs, producing an apologetic smile. Being polite to Kate will be an unforeseen obstacle. He didn’t realize how much he truly resents her.

Kate laughs again. “I like you. Come and sit down. Everything’s ready.”

For Allison’s sake, who obviously adores her aunt, he smiles half-heartedly and takes a seat at one end of the table with Mr. Argent being at the head. While everyone’s moving to their place Stiles wonders why all the weirdos profess to like him, first Peter, now Kate. It makes no sense because he doesn’t exactly suffer fools gladly. At this rate, Allison’s ice queen of a mother will declare him to be the son she never had and offer him cookies to take home when he leaves.

The conversation chugs in fits and starts along the usual lines of third degree interrogations. What’s your real name? Tell us about your family… school career… hobbies… criminal convictions… bad habits… previous relationships… future plans… The Argents may not express it in quite those terms but that’s what it boils down to. Stiles finds it amusing because no one is more adept at extracting information from him than his dad and likewise no one is as skilled at evading straight answers as Stiles himself.

It’s obvious that Allison is exasperated with her family and so Stiles doesn’t try too hard to make a good impression. He talks a lot but it’s mostly jokes and irrelevant facts – his specialty.

And then it all comes to an abrupt end when Kate asks with a faux innocent expression, “You’re friends with Derek, aren’t you?”

“Derek _Hale?_ ” Mr. Argent asks and his eyes, which are disconcerting at the best of times, seem to bore into Stiles.

It’s like the screech of a record player has disturbed the conversation and Stiles’ hairs stand on end as he can feel the whole atmosphere in the room change. _Woah, what just happened?_ “Do you know him?” he asks and does his own scrutiny as best he can.

“We know the family,” Mr. Argent says so deliberately off-hand it’s laughable.

“You do?”

“By reputation,” Mrs. Argent intercedes, her face tight as if she bit into a lemon.

“Really?” Stiles smiles. “What kind of reputation do the Hales have?”

Allison is looking unhappily between them all, seeming confused and out of the loop. Apparently she knows nothing about the Hales’ standing and Stiles is glad about that. How did this family ever produce someone like her, who’s friendly and open, when they are… like this?

Of course, Kate is the one to have an answer. “You can hardly expect us to tell you when you’re friends with the son of the family.”

He has to admit it’s a valid argument. “Yes, Derek and I are friends.” Oh, how he wishes that was still true but the Argents don’t know that and he’ll not allow Kate to think that Derek is without friends and doesn’t have anyone looking out for him.

“And your dad’s friends with his parents?”

“Totally. As thick as thieves. Well, if my dad wasn’t a cop and Mrs. Hale wasn’t a judge. I’m not suggesting they’re actual thieves, thick or otherwise. Just good chums, you know. Like me and Derek.”

Everyone’s staring at him now, including Allison who appears to be completely lost. Eventually Kate smiles again. “And how well do you know the Hales, Stiles?”

For the first time in his life Stiles has a true epiphany. He looks at Kate and then at Allison’s parents and he knows, _knows_ without the shadow of a doubt that whatever Derek is hiding, the Argents are also aware of it. And now they probably realize that he knows that they know, so he nods sagely and says pointedly, “Well enough.”

The adult family members exchange meaningful looks, while Allison frowns at him and he can but shrug. Then Mr. Argent changes the subject.

When the door shuts behind him an hour later Stiles feels like he wants to vomit. This was the most stressful thing he’s done in a long time. How do people go through this when they’re not just pretending to date and hence need to make a good impression? He walks towards his Jeep but his relief to be out of there is short-lived.

The front door reopens and Mr. Argent comes walking down the path. Stiles is sorely tempted to start his car and just drive off but in the end he waits and lowers the window about halfway.

Allison’s dad stops next to him and says icily, “Allison doesn’t know. You and Derek make sure it stays that way.”

Stiles nods. “Sure thing, Mr. Argent.” He could even promise him that because he has no fucking clue what they’re talking about.

Mr. Argent just stares at him until he drives away. _Wow, that guy is scary! What a family!_

His phone beeps by the time he gets home. It’s a text from Allison: _So sorry!!! What was that about? Did I miss something?_

Yeah, that is the billion dollar question, isn’t it? _No clue. talk about it tomorrow_

He sits in his room for a while, tapping the side of his phone against his chin. The idea that he should simply ignore his gut feeling only crosses his mind for a split second. It’s not in his nature but what is more is that his Spidey-sense has gone off with a vengeance. There is something going on that’s about more than sexy teacher preying on hot student, which would be sickening in itself. But unless the Argents are running a sex slave ring and Kate does the reconnaissance this is far more sinister. Maybe it’s a family feud albeit one Derek doesn’t seem to be aware off.

Eventually he sends another text: _we need to talk!!!1!!_

He regrets it instantly but there’s no way to take the message back. Shit! Why does he always do this stuff? He should have just kept things the way they are. What’s the point of starting this up again? Does he really think it’ll go any different this time? His lack of impulse control really is the bane of his life.

He’s not quite sure what he expects and is already rehearsing what he’s going to say to Derek tomorrow morning when half an hour later there’s a knock on his window. As it’s late and his dad won’t be home until the early hours, he’s just on his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed when the rap of knuckles against the pane makes him jump and spin around.

In the light of the waxing moon he can see Derek frowning angrily and pointing at the lock. Relieved that it’s _this_ Hale and not his uncle, Stiles unlocks the window but leaves Derek to push it up and let himself in.

“Why do you tell me you want to talk and then leave the window locked?” he grouses.

“Because normal people use _the door_. And anyway I didn’t say we need to talk _right this minute_.”

“Oh.” Derek looks a little sheepish and disappointed somehow and it melts Stiles’s heart.

Perhaps he’s going about this all the wrong way. He may have known Derek for over a year but they’ve been friends only since school started up again after the winter break. Maybe expecting full disclosure under these circumstances is a bit much, especially if Derek's secret is as enormous as Stiles suspects. But they _are_ friends, at least he still considers them such and even if he has yet to gain Derek's trust, he cannot let him stay ignorant of what he found out tonight.

So he just bursts out with, “Allison’s family knows what you are,” barely paying attention when Derek speaks at exactly the same moment as he does. It takes him a few seconds to parse what Derek said and _…oh! my! God!_

 

*******

 

This is the second time in as many weeks that someone tells him they know his secret. Well, Stiles just guessed but Kate _knows_. The proof is right there in her eyes and the certainty of her voice.

All he can think is _deny, deny, deny_. It was his first lesson: if someone somehow finds out your secret just deny it. There’s no way to prove what they say, no test that shows you to be a werewolf, no method to force you to shift. If you deny it, nobody will believe them. It’s just not within the limits of people’s imagination. It’s all just stories to them.

“That’s crazy,” he whispers and it comes out more frightened than derisive.

“Yes, I suppose it would be to most people. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. I haven’t yet, have I? You don’t need to hide from me. Like I said, I just want to help you. I read your file, I recognized your name and I realized that you wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. I mean, you can hardly go to a normal counselor, can you? So I’m here to help. Whatever bothers you, you can tell me because I already know.”

 _Deny, deny, deny_. If this was Stiles, he would be ecstatic. Deep down he knows he’s been toying with telling Stiles the truth from very early on. If Stiles somehow already knew, he would have someone to talk to, someone to trust. It’s the _telling_ Stiles that’s holding him back, not Stiles _knowing_.

But Kate already knows so it’s pointless denying it. He still should but he can’t. She’s only trying to help. “How do you know?”

She huffs a laugh. “Did your parents tell you no one knows? Oh sweetie, lots of people do. It’s not common knowledge, of course, but there are groups of people who know. People who are trying to keep the balance. If it became public knowledge that werewolves exist there would be panic. So there are people who mediate between werewolves and humans. Making sure things remain hidden and safe.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, there haven’t been any people like us in these parts for a long time so your family probably didn’t think to tell you. And quite frankly, we like to keep our business as secret as you do. So I’m only telling _you_. We’re friends so I know you won’t tell anyone.”

Derek nods mechanically. Yes, he knows all about keeping secrets.

He can’t detect any lies but it’s not an exact science. Listening to someone’s heartbeat is similar to a lie detector test, with all the flaws and margins for error it entails. Quite frankly he’s not very good at it and never was. His younger sisters are better at sensing lies than he is. Maybe he just doesn’t have the feel for it or the desire to trip people up. He values his privacy and likes to grant the same courtesy to others. But right now it would come in really handy.

He’ll just have to trust his instincts and they’re telling him that if he can’t have Stiles in his life then Kate is the next best thing. He’d never have told her about werewolves on his own accord. It’s not something he’s tempted to do when he’s with other people, like he is when he’s with Stiles. But if she already knows, then at least he can talk to her.

Kate moves forward very carefully like she’s approaching a skittish animal. When she’s close enough she slowly puts her arms around his neck, kisses his cheek gently and comfortingly and holds him tight. “I’m here for you. You don’t need to hide anything from me.”

A little overwhelmed he puts his forehead onto her shoulder. After a while he allows her to lead him back to the couch.

“It’s alright, sweetie. Just tell me about yourself.”

In the end, he doesn’t say much at all. The feeling that it’s wrong to admit to being a werewolf to anyone other than whomever his parents have vetted is too ingrained to be easily overcome. Everything about this feels off kilter.

After a while Kate becomes a little impatient when he neither wants to talk nor do anything more physical. It’s the first time he’s seen her anything other than kind and gentle, but she’s soon back to holding his hand and stroking his arm although it doesn’t really reach him.

“Would you feel comfortable showing me your shift? It would build some more trust between us.”

It jars him out of the strange mood he’s in. He couldn’t possibly do that! She would know exactly what it means that his eyes are blue instead of yellow and he’s not ready to explain it yet. “I’ve got to go.”

He gets up and she follows him to the door again. “There’s really nothing to worry about. I won’t tell anyone and I know you won’t either. We’re friends, if nothing else, aren’t we?”

Of course, they are. He wouldn’t deny her that much. They kiss before he leaves, not too passionately but not completely platonic either. He isn’t quite sure how they got to kissing goodbye after the conversation they just had, but he’s too distracted to stop it or even care.

By the time he gets home, he’s angry. Maybe he’s been angry for a long time but it’s only now starting to surface. His parents have always told him to keep their secret and he can see the wisdom in that. But it seems that a lot of people already know. Paige did. She told him just before she died. Kate obviously does. So who else knows?

He bangs the front door shut, knowing full well it’s one of his mother’s pet hates, but she’s not home yet anyway. His dad comes out of his office, eyebrows raised. Derek ignores him.

“Uh-uh,” Peter says as he meets him on the landing upstairs. “Did you have a lover’s tiff with your wittle boyfriend?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Derek mutters. He can hear his dad downstairs say his name admonishingly. He doesn’t care. In fact the words aren’t nearly strong enough to assuage his anger, so he body checks his uncle as he walks past him, catching him off-guard for the very first time in his life and toppling him over the banister. It’s just as satisfying as he always imagined it to be although naturally Peter lands gracefully on his feet.

“Derek!” his father says again, louder this time.

Derek simply disappears into his room. There’s probably going to be hell to pay later, but he can also hear his dad growl at Peter. “If you taunt him one more time, for whatever reason, I swear I’ll throw you down the stairs myself.”

His anger doesn’t allow him to rest. Two minutes after he’s thrown himself on his bed he’s pacing the room. He hasn’t been this furious since before Paige died ( _she didn’t just die, you_ killed _her!_ ). For most of his life he’s abided by the rules of his family, his pack and his alpha. Only rarely has he strayed from the path set out before him and if he did, it was usually at Peter’s instigation and just as frequently had bad consequences.

Derek likes harmony. He’s not good with being at odds with people he cherishes so there was never any reason for him to rebel. His family is also his pack and they’re all close and happy that way. But right now he feels like he barely knows them. There was never any mention of other people knowing about werewolves. It’s seems that the secret they’re all sharing is nowhere near as closely guarded as he was led to believe.

All his life he believed there were only werewolves and hunters. Good and evil. Secrets or death. Now there seem to be other options that no one told him about. And if there are other options then... He kicks his metal waste basket so hard it takes a chunk of plaster out of the wall. What it means is that he gave up Stiles for nothing!

 

 

All night he wonders if there’s something he can do. If he signaled to Stiles that he’s willing to talk, would Stiles forget about what happened and speak to him again? For now that’s all he wants. He eats, sleeps and breathes Stiles and it’s killing him to see him and not be able to at least say hello.

He barely listens to his mother on the way to school. It’s her way of having serious conversations one on one. She drives someone and talks at the same time while the other person can’t escape. Not that anyone would dare leave a talk with her without her permission. You just don’t and quite frankly most of the time you don’t want to. Who’d want to get away from their alpha? Nobody would willingly forego the comfort and sense of belonging she provides.

Instead of telling him off, she asks him if Peter is a problem she needs to remove from his life so he can move forward with what she calls his ‘healing process’. It’s not entirely clear if she means to remove Peter to another location, maybe to live with one of his aunts, or simply make sure he doesn’t bother Derek any longer. He amuses himself by imagining she means 'take him out and hide his body'.

“It’s okay. I can handle it.” He knows that Peter lives with them because he’s too much to handle for anyone but the alpha and can’t be trusted to live on his own.

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to have added worries.” She means ‘on top of dealing with what happened’ but adds, “You should concentrate on school.”

“I’m okay, Mom, really.”

“Okay. Is there something else bothering you?”

He shakes his head silently.

“I know that was a stupid question. What happened with Stiles?”

He just looks at her and after a while she looks back and forth between the road and him a few times and says, “Oh.” It’s probably uncool to let your mother know about your unrequited love when you’re a teenager but she’s his alpha, it’s nice to have her silent support. He’s tried being angry with her before but her mere presence is a comfort so that doesn’t work. It’s not that he’s blaming her anyway. What he’s furious about right now is a general unfairness of life, that his will always be more complicated than other people’s and that he could have had Stiles in his life if he’d made a different decision last week instead of taking the cowardly way out. Deep down he’s not entirely sure the reason he held back is because he’s not ‘allowed’ to tell other people or because he feared rejection.

At school he looks out for Stiles but to no avail. They don’t have any lessons together but when Derek sees him at lunchtime he’s disappointed to find him at a secluded spot in the corner of the cafeteria in a deep and very obviously exclusive conversation with Allison. Well, it would be exclusive if it didn’t include Scott.

It strikes Derek as strange that Scott should be so forgiving of Stiles and Allison’s relationship when he’s obviously still in love with her. Be that as it may, Derek has obviously missed his chance. The way they talk in hushed voices and put their heads together speaks volumes about how intimate and comfortable they are with each other.

Derek takes his food and eats outside.

 

 

He’s listless all evening. The run home doesn’t help in the slightest. After he’s half-heartedly done his homework, he lies on his bed with music blaring through his headphones but gets annoyed halfway through all the songs and spends more time skipping around his playlists than listening to music.

His mother must have given Peter the lecture of a lifetime because he’s not even silently smirking at dinner. It won’t last. It never does. However, Derek isn’t in the mood to enjoy the peace nor does he take the opportunity to needle Peter when he can’t retaliate. What’s the point? It would only speed up the return to hostilities. He’s is so, so far beyond caring.

Laura comes into his room after the meal but after some light chatting about her day she settles into silence and they both lie on his bed, each curled up to leave room for the other. He wonders if this is what will have to sustain him for the rest of his life: family, pack, love that’s comforting rather than exciting and all-consuming. He’s grateful that she’s here but of course he doesn’t tell her so. That would be weird.

They both jump when his cellphone goes off even though it’s on vibrate. Laura huffs a laugh, stretches and gets up. “That’s my cue. I’d better get my homework done.”

Derek's not listening, just stares at the little screen, wondering if he’s seeing things. It’s Stiles! _we need to talk!!!1!!_ Hell, yes! He’s out his bedroom door before his sister gets there and as he’s thumping down the stairs, he shouts, “I’m going out, Mom.”

The only reason he hears her reply of not staying out too long because it’s a school night, is his enhanced hearing. By that time he’s already changing to a flat-out run after jumping down the steps to the house. Stiles! Stiles texted him! Stiles wants to talk! This is his chance to mend their relationship and come hell or high water he’s not going to mess it up.

However, when he gets to Stiles’s bedroom the window is locked. Was it all a prank? Stiles wouldn’t do that, would he? Did he change his mind? Please, don’t let him have changed his mind! He checks his phone but there’s no new message telling him that it was a mistake or that the message wasn’t for him. Through the window he can see Stiles walk towards the door so he knocks.

Predictably Stiles is surprised and he even complains about using the window. Well, Derek didn’t have the patience to knock on the door and wait. Nor did he want to have to talk his way around the sheriff if he’s in, although he doesn’t appear to be.

“And anyway I didn’t mean we need to talk _right this minute_ ,” Stiles grouses.

Derek is crushed. He was so convinced that this is it, that Stiles wanted to be friends again or maybe more, although given that he’s dating Allison that was never very likely. Still Derek couldn’t help hoping. He should have played it cool, maybe answered briefly and said something about talking in school, not come running like a lovesick puppy. He’s such an idiot! But now that he’s here he can’t leave without giving it his all.

Barely registering Stiles’s revelation that the Argents know about him – not exactly news to him – he bursts out, “I’m a werewolf!”

Stiles slumps backwards to sit down heavily on his bed and stares at him agape.

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

**12**

 

Stiles can’t think or talk fast enough to get out all the questions he has. “When were you bitten? Is it painful to turn? Do you chain yourself up on the full moon? Do you lose complete control? Do silver bullets kill you? Are they the only thing that can kill you? Who else knows? Are there other werewolves? Can I see?”

He has to take a breath to continue but is struck dumb when Derek steps forward and casually flicks his wrist, displaying all digits spread and the most vicious-looking claws Stiles has ever seen up close at the end of each one. Stiles squeaks a little and scrambles back so violently that he falls off the other side of the bed in his semi-panic.

As soon as he looks up Derek is there, luckily now clawless, and lifts him easily into a standing position holding him there when Stiles keeps fidgeting. “Does that answer your question? I’m really fast and strong. I’ve enhanced senses and I turn into a werewolf at will, not because the moon’s out, full or otherwise.”

Nodding, Stiles casts a relieved glance out the window at the moonlit night. “Good to know. Can you let go?”

Derek does so immediately and looks at his hands for a moment as if he can’t work out how they came to be on Stiles. At any other time Stiles would let him know that he’s welcome to put his hands – and anything else he’d like – all over Stiles’s body, but right now he’s relieved. When he was determined to find out what Derek is, it never occurred to him that if he’s right that means that Derek's body is basically a loaded weapon. _All the time._

As if he can read his thoughts Derek retreats towards the window, thankfully not to leave but apparently to appear less menacing. And suddenly Stiles isn’t afraid any longer. This is Derek and if he trusted him before he was certain what he is, he has no reason to feel any different now. On some level he _knows_ Derek like he knows Scott. When he met Scott they were best friends before the day was out, Stiles just _knew_ even when he didn’t know every fact there was to know that it was _right_. With Derek it may have been a little slower, but he’s been certain about this being just as _right,_ albeit in a slightly different way, at least since the barbecue. So being in the room with Derek is on the same level as being with his father when he’s armed: no danger whatsoever to Stiles and some hypothetical advantages should the occasion demand it.

With slow deliberateness he walks over to Derek and takes his wrist, lifting it from his side to chest-height between them. “Show me again.” And _wow!!!_ Rather than flicking out all at once, the claws extend slowly like a time lapse while he looks on in awe. There’s also some hair coming out of the skin on the back of Derek's hand. “Oh my god. Does it hurt?”

Derek shakes his head, retracting both hair and claws just as slowly. Where did they go? Stiles turns over Derek's hand in his, rubbing over the smoothness. Then he notices Derek's unhappy expression and drops it. “Sorry. I didn't mena to...This is just so _awesome_. Do you even know how awesome this is? You’re, like, a superhero.”

“Hardly,” Derek huffs. “The general consensus is _monster_.”

“Pffft,” Stiles goes dismissively. “The general consensus is bullshit. _Is_ there a general consensus? I mean, do people actually know about you? Am I the last to find out as usual?”

“You’re the first one I told. I’m not really supposed to tell anyone. Don’t say anything to anyone.”

Warm surprise washes over Stiles at the thought that Derek trusts only him, that he’s the first and only so far. The mischievous part of him wants to keep it that way forever. How cool would it be to be the only one who knows Derek's secret! The fun they could have! Another part is disturbed that Derek feels the need to even tell him to keep shtumm. So okay, Stiles likes to talk but – _duh!_ – he knows where the line is.

“I wouldn’t,” he says, a little hurt and moves back to sit on his bed.

Derek still looks upset and Stiles can’t help but pat the bedspread next to him in invitation. Reluctantly Derek sits down as well, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“So how long have you been a werewolf?”

There’s a confused look. “Since birth?”

“You were born that way? But I thought… all my research said… oh my god, you’re all werewolves, aren't you, your whole family! Of course, lycanthropy is hereditary. I’m having a real Dean Winchester moment here.”

“Yeah, we don’t eat raw meat.”

Stiles playfully hits Derek's chest with the back of his hand. “I love how you get all my references, dude.”

Derek starts to speak but then just closes his mouth and smiles fondly at him. Which is just as well because it allows Stiles to start on the hundreds of questions he has. It’s a quick fire round at first, short questions and answers but it soon turns into longer explanations and before they know it two hours have passed and Derek's phone goes off with a phone call from his mother.

Having a sudden idea, Stiles is frantically waving his hands and miming sleeping and when Derek puts his hand over the phone and frowns questioningly, he says eagerly, “Ask her if you can sleep over.”

“Really?”

There’s something in the way Derek says it that turns Stiles into a complete puddle of goo. It’s as if Derek can’t quite believe what Stiles is asking, as if nobody’s ever invited him to a sleepover before and this is like a dream come true. Now, Stiles doesn’t believe that for one moment but maybe it’s been a while. He knows what it’s like to lose someone and how some things just fall by the wayside afterwards.

He nods and picks up his own phone to get permission from his dad. It’s nowhere near as easy as it seems to be for Derek, who blushes at something his mother says and says _Mom! –_ in that way that Stiles says _Dad!_ when he feels called out by one of his father’s jokes – before he gives Stiles the thumbs up with a relieved smile.

“It’s a school night,” his dad says. “Why can’t you have a sleepover tomorrow?”

Stiles squirms and moves a little away from Derek to speak in a low voice. “He doesn’t seem so good, you know? He’s been talking about some issues and I think it would do him good if he didn’t have to leave right now. I’m just being a good friend, you know?”

His father has more objections along practical lines. How is Derek going to get his school stuff? How is he going to change clothes before school? _Do_ not _lend him one of my boxers, Stiles, whatever you do!_ And that pretty much means it's a done deal. Eventually there’s a pause at the end of the line that Stiles bites his lips not to fill with more arguments to make his case. It’s his dad’s _I-don’t-like-it-but-I-don’t-have-a-good-enough-reason-to say-no_ pause that precedes his reluctant permission. “Fine. But if you two are still up when I get home, this will be the last sleepover till kingdom come.”

“We won’t. We’ll go to sleep at a decent time. Did I ever tell you you’re the bestest dad?”

His dad huffs. “Don’t overdo it, kiddo, or I’ll know you’re up to no good.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

There’s a snort and a goodnight and Stiles knows his dad’s already regretting his decision. When he turns around, Derek's looking at him with raised eyebrows. Belatedly Stiles remembers his little tidbit about enhanced senses. “ _And_ you heard every word of that, didn’t you?” he says resignedly.

Derek nods sagely. “Every word you said and every word your dad said.”

“You’re kidding me! That’s awesome! What’s your hearing range? Can you hear what the neighbors are doing?”

Yeah, this is going to be a very long and extremely exciting night. They set up the blow-up bed and sleeping bag first. It’s only ever been used by Scott before and Stiles is highly amused when Derek says it smells of him despite having been washed recently because Scott spilled soda on it during his last visit.

Then they go downstairs to find supplies, cookies, potato chips, sodas, all the essential. Stiles has to educate Derek that hot chocolate with marshmallows is not a kid's drink but indispensable for sleepovers. “What kind of sleepovers did you have before? Heathen!” He’s happy when Derek laughs at that. It would be too sad if this really was Derek's first.

At one in the morning Stiles pads downstairs again to get the ice cream out of the freezer and half past two sees him get some mineral water to settle his stomach from all the junk food.

He got tired of hanging his head over the side of the bed to be able to see Derek, who’s much lower down, so he’s re-settled himself on the floor with his duvet and his pillow. It’s not as if he’s going to sleep anytime soon – or at all. Without volition he migrates closer and closer to Derek, first resting his head on the airbed, then moving his whole body into the space Derek very obviously makes for him. It’s way more comfortable than lying on the duvet and now he can use said duvet to cover himself. The night’s not warm enough to spend it without a cover, especially not on the floor.

Derek answers his questions good-naturedly as if Stiles’s enthusiasm amuses him. He lets Stiles see and even touch his fangs at one point, but mostly they just talk. This feels much more intimate than anything he’s ever done with Scott, including sharing a bed and jerking off together. Maybe it’s the clandestine nature of their conversation, the implied _this is our secret_ , the trust Derek places in him despite knowing what a blabbermouth Stiles is. There’s something about Derek's soft voice and the way he smiles at Stiles that reminds him that he’s never thought about kissing Scott but he’s had images and even dreams about kissing Derek – and more. Why does he always fall for people so far out of his league it’s laughable?

By half past four, their questions and answers are petering out. It’s not that Stiles doesn’t have any more questions. He’s got plenty, a never-ending supply of them he reckons, but they’re finally getting sleepy. It’s about two hours until his dad's due home after his shift and Stiles should get into his bed and be asleep when he does, like he’s promised. But then another question occurs to him and he’s wide awake again.

“Did you tell Kate?” The very idea makes him queasy, not just that Derek should favor Kate of all people with privileged information, but also because it means that the information is no longer privileged in that case. It would take the shine of this precious gift he’s been given. He doesn’t want to be second choice for Derek.

The answer doesn’t sound as sleepy as it should at this time of the night. “No. I told you you’re the only one I ever told.”

“Then how the fuck does she know about you? And the rest of the Argents? Except Allison. She was clearly clueless.”

There’s a shrug that nudges Stiles to the edge of the airbed, followed by Derek pulling him closer to prevent him falling off. “My parents always told me there’s only us and hunters. But Kate says she’s neither.”

“Maybe you should tell your parents. The Argents are bad news, man. I can just smell it.”

“I thought I was the one with the enhanced senses?” Derek smirks before turning serious. “I can’t tell my parents because then I would also have to tell them about going to Kate for counseling.”

“Maybe you should do that, too. You should stay away from her altogether. She gives me the creeps. You know all about bad touching, right?”

It's meant to be a joke, kind of, but Derek is quiet for a long time before he says, “Not all touching's bad.”

“What??? She did something to you, didn’t she?”

There’s another shrug but this time Derek holds Stiles in position before he can be dislodged by the movement since he hasn’t taken his arm off Stiles yet. “Nothing terrible. We kissed a couple of times.”

As much as Stiles would like to hold oh so very still so that Derek keeps his arm around him in what amounts to an embrace around his middle, this is too much. He rolls off the air mattress and sits on the floor because his disapproval can only be adequately expressed by flailing his arms for emphasis. “That’s sick, dude. Imagine some teacher did that to your sister. Just because you’re a guy doesn’t make it any less rape-y. I should get my dad to arrest the bitch.”

“Please, don’t do that.” Derek sits up as well, leaning against the side of the bed.

Stiles already knows he won’t because he always tries to solve everything on his own. His father is his safety net in life but he’s always been a last resort. Foremost in Stiles’s mind is the desire not to make life harder for him than it already is with a son like him. He’s very aware that his dad needs to make decisions in two roles at any given time, those of a police officer and those of a father. Some things he’s just not comfortable turning a blind eye to so it’s best not to confront him with situations like that too often. He’s not even entirely sure which of his dad’s roles would win out if Stiles really messed up one day.

“Do you actually like her?”

“She’s someone to talk to and she likes me.”

“You can talk to me, dude, really. You don’t have to let her paw you just to have someone to talk to. Talk is something I do very well. I practise a lot.”

“I know. But you have a girlfriend now and there are things that happened that I can’t just tell anyone.”

“But you can tell _her_? I get that it’s sometimes easier to talk to adults because they seem to know what they’re doing but she really doesn’t qualify. Not if her kind of help is physical… wait, what do you mean I have a girlfriend? When did I get a girlfriend? Why wasn’t I told? Did I miss the memo? Is she nice?”

Derek snorts without any amusement. “Remember Allison? The one you’re taking to the dance next week?”

Stiles chuckles. His plan appears to have worked better than expected. Derek swallowed his little performance hook, line and sinker. “That’s just for show. I’m picking her up to take her there and then Scott will take over. Her parents wouldn’t let her go otherwise.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. But I feel flattered that you think I could pull someone like Allison. I’m afraid I’m not that cool. Not by a long shot.”

“You’re cool enough for me.”

Stiles huffs a laugh. “Yeah, right. Prove it! Go to the formal with me… as my date. Go on. I dare you, big guy.”

Derek looks at him solemnly. “I’d love to.” And then he dips his head and looks for Stiles’s reaction from under his lashes. There’s a tiny smile on his face.

It’s not completely dark because the curtains are open and the streetlight throws a little glow into the room but it’s not enough. Stiles peers at Derek trying to see his features properly but everything is just different shades of grey. However, Derek doesn’t laugh and holds his gaze, his eyes looking very dark in the dimness. Stiles throws up his hands in a perplexed gesture and promptly topples backwards onto the floor.

He’s too tired, mentally and physically, to get back up. Everything’s just that little bit too much. There are werewolves! A whole bunch of them. And if that isn’t weird enough: did Derek just say what Stiles thinks he said? “Yeah, you’ll have to prove that as well. Feel free to show me how much you mean it by… I don’t know…” He waves his hand about in a vague gesture and decides he’s also too tired to care about the monumental fool he’s being. He's used to it from his crush on Lydia. “…by maybe kissing me right now.”

Derek is there in a heartbeat, hovering over him with his hands on either side of his head and lowering his face to Stiles’s very slowly as if he’s giving him time to change his mind. Suddenly Stiles is hyperaware of everything around him, the roughness of the carpet under his body, Derek's breath on his face getting hotter the closer he comes, the texture of Derek's shirt where his own hands are grabbing on to his waist and pulling him. His mind supplies a shocked, _wow, he_ _really is fast… super-werewolf-speed… nice… I have so many questions_. And then they’re kissing and Stiles can’t focus on anything else any longer. Nor does he really want to.

 

*** * ***

 

In a sense this is worse than talking to Kate. At least with Kate all he did was not deny what she already knew. With Stiles he actually said the words. “I am a werewolf.” Words he’s never to utter to anyone, words he’s supposed to deny to his dying breath. And yet… this doesn’t make him feel half as bad as his conversation with Kate did. Everything about that felt wrong, this feels right because this is something he chose.

After a surprisingly short hesitation – or maybe not so surprising since this is Stiles – the questions start and yet he doesn’t for a single moment show any signs of disbelief. He wants to see but that’s just natural curiosity. Derek can’t blame him for that. It’s actually quite fun to show off a bit.

But then Stiles gets frightened and Derek should have known that would happen. He shouldn’t have gone over there to help him up. It was pure protective instinct but Stiles probably needs time to adjust to the revelation. Leaving would be the best course of action but for now Derek retreats to the window, away from Stiles so that he doesn’t need to be afraid of the big bad monster.

Stiles, however, follows him almost immediately and that means a lot to Derek. Maybe he’s not so scary after all. Even when he brings out his claws again, more slowly this time, Stiles seems simply fascinated. After Derek retracts them, Stiles’s long, slender fingers stroke gently over Derek's skin. Everywhere they touch, they leave a warm tingling sensation making it hard for Derek not to pull him closer. A few moments later Stiles hastily lets go. Maybe being within touching distance from Derek is too close for comfort after all.

Within less than a minute he’s sitting on Stiles’s bed. There have been very few occasions in his life when he’s been tongue-tied but this is one of them. They have been closer than this before, at school when they’ve been bent over an experiment or sat close together in the cafeteria, or in the tree house during the barbecue, but this is making him feel awkward. Stiles’s scent is all around him and Derek’s so, _so_ gone over him he wants to wrap himself around him or, failing that, at least burrow into his bed.

The questions come hard and fast and, really, the things this guy wonders about! No, vampires aren't real. Yes, I could jump out of your window and not get hurt. Yes, every person smells different. After a while he forgets that he’s not supposed to divulge any information. It’s too late now anyway and it feels good not to have to hide anything. He needs a friend to talk to, someone he can vent to and not have to leave out half the problems his nature poses. He knows he can always talk to his family but Laura’s too responsible already, his other sisters are too young, and his parents are his parents. What self-respecting teenager talks to their parents? Peter has always filled that role for him until his advice fucked up Derek's life and then some.

He _likes_ answering Stiles’s questions. He likes his obvious enthusiasm, his interest, his thought processes and when he starts to tell him that he hates being called ‘dude’ he suddenly finds that it’s not true any longer. Or rather: it’s not true when Stiles says it. He could listen all day to Stiles calling him dude and anything else he chooses.

Then he gets a call from his mother and suddenly he feels guilty that he hasn’t finished his math homework yet, that he’s out late on a school night and that he’s talking to Stiles about their family secret – maybe not in that particular order but his mother also being his alpha means there’s no real distinction between the different aspects of his life. All that goes clear out of his mind when Stiles suggests a sleepover without any idea what this means to Derek. He hasn’t stayed with a friend in months. Okay, so Stiles just wants to talk some more but he’s also smiling a lot and Derek would like to think Stiles wouldn’t ask if he disliked Derek.

“Do I need to worry about this?” his mother asked, unsubtly alluding to his confession of his crush on Stiles. “The two of you aren’t up to anything I wouldn’t approve of, are you?”

“ _Mo-om!_ ” This is too embarrassing for words.

She laughs a soft sound that makes him feel fond immediately. “Maybe Stiles would like to come to dinner again, now that you two have made up. Ask him. Tomorrow’s good. Or the weekend.”

There’s really no getting around it. His mother has practically adopted Stiles already. When he’s finished he listens to Stiles spin a sad story for his father to agree as well. It makes Derek sound like a sap but it gets the job done.

They eat junk food until Derek feels queasy just from looking at Stiles stuffing his face. Werewolves can eat what they like without any adverse effects either in the health or in the vomiting sense but Stiles is giving him a run for his money concerning the latter. Where does he even put it all? He’s so skinny.

One thing he’s always hated about sleepovers is that he needs to pretend to get sleepy at some point but is usually still awake when everyone else is snoring happily. He only needs around three to four hours a night to still be fully functional and a sleepless night doesn’t impair him much physically or mentally.

Stiles is on the floor with him, edging closer until they’re finally sharing the airbed. Derek doesn’t know if this is heaven or hell. Being this close makes it tempting to try and get even closer, but it also reminds him of the myriad of reasons why that cannot be. Which Stiles only emphasizes by starting to talk about Kate, making Derek feel deeply embarrassed.

Sometimes he wonders how he ended up with Kate and why he can’t seem to extricate himself. Every time he tries he ends up right back where he started. Admittedly that didn't seem so bad when Stiles wasn’t talking to him. At least there’s someone who likes him. But now he has trouble remembering how it started, where it went from innocent support to something else entirely and although it doesn't compare in any way, shape or form because he was friends with Paige and the same can’t be said about Kate despite her insistence, one feeling is the same: that he will end up hurting the person he’s with.

In his defensiveness he tries to turn the conversation back on Stiles… and Allison. Stiles’s reply blows his mind completely. How did he miss that they’re just friends? How did he not detect any lie? The answer is simple: there never was a lie. Allison and Stiles, and Scott to some extent, didn't deceive anybody specific. There was nothing malicious about their charade and therefore none of them felt any anxiety about it, making it so much harder to realize the truth.

He’s still stuck on _Stiles isn’t dating_ when they get talking about the school dance – which he’s had no intention attending until now – and he blurts out that he’d love to take Stiles there. And Stiles talks about kissing and Derek can’t help himself. He crouches over Stiles’s supine form, careful not to trap him with his body weight, knees bracketing his waist and his hands by his head. He forces himself to lean down agonizingly slowly giving Stiles ample time to say stop, push him away, say anything at all or maybe just look doubtful.

Stiles doesn’t do any of those things. Instead he pulls Derek closer with his hands clawing at his t-shirt and his head lifts off the floor a little to bridge the distance between their mouths faster. The kiss is just as eager, hurting when teeth hit sensitive flesh before they find the right way to tilt their heads. They bump noses, too, and none of that matters.

As much as Derek enjoys kissing, his mind has always wandered. At various times his main concerns have been whether he’s a good kisser, if the kiss might be misconstrued as an invitation or cajoling he didn’t mean to imply or simply if it’s normal to kiss someone and not want to jump their bones. Now his mind is clear except for _more, closer_ and _don’t stop._ And yet he’s the one who pulls away and rolls off Stiles onto his back.

Stiles whines. “What did you do that for? It was just getting good. Was it not good? Am I a terrible kisser? You hated it, didn’t you?”

“It was perfect,” Derek says truthfully and it’s just his luck that he would find what he’s been looking for only after he fucked up his life.

“Really?” Stiles tenses his muscles and Derek can see what he’s planning to do before Stiles has finished thinking it. By the time Stiles twists to reverse their earlier positions, Derek is standing and has taken three steps towards the window, leaving Stiles to face-plant the carpet. “Fuck.”

Derek watches him scramble to his feet clumsily and it’s so adorable he wants to wrap him in his arms and never let go. “I have to go,” he presses out.

“What the fuck, Derek? We’re having a sleepover, remember? We have permission from our respective parental units and everything. We’re, like, two minutes away from building a pillow fort. Well, a moment ago I thought we were two minutes away from boning but, you know, my bad.” He pauses and looks at Derek for a while. “If you say, it was a mistake I swear to god I will brain you despite your super powers.”

That’s exactly what Derek was going to say, being the truth and all, but at the last second he turns it into, “There are things you don’t know.”

“Then tell me and I will.”

“I can’t.”

“You can tell me you’re a werewolf but there are things you can’t say? Jeez, Derek, way to be dramatic. What else could there possibly be?” Stiles takes a deep breath. “Okay, I appreciate the underlying suggestion that there needs to be informed consent and I’m fully on board with that. I will withhold my consent until you tell me whatever you can’t tell me.”

“I really can’t.”

“What does that _mean?_ You can’t say it because you’re embarrassed? You can’t tell me because it’s a family secret? Have you done something against the law? Because I don’t feel the need to share everything I know with my dad if that's what you're wondering.”

Well, yes, that’s part of it but not as much as he fears Stiles’s reaction if he were to tell him he killed Paige. How do you possibly come back from that? How can he say _I can’t be with you because I killed the last person I dated and I’m worried you’ll find me repulsive when you find out? Also I couldn’t bear it if something like that happened to you._ That’s a conversation he could never have and yet it’s a basic requirement for what Stiles calls ‘informed consent’.

“I have to go,” he repeats dejectedly.

“And I suppose that’s the end of our… whatever we’re doing?”

He shrugs because he doesn’t want it to be but he also can’t see any other outcome. “I don’t know.”

“What does that _mean?_ ” Stiles asks again, this time louder and with a lot more frustration behind it.

Derek pushes the window up and slides through the gap. When he looks back his heart clenches further than it already has at the thought that this will be the end – again. Stiles’s eyes are huge in the semi-darkness and more than ever they’re giving him the Bambi look of sadness that only Stiles can pull off. Derek swallows, casting around for something to say and grabs the first thing that comes into his head, “My mom’s invited you to dinner. Any day between tomorrow and Sunday. Just let me know.”

Stiles’s mouth opens and his features crunch up with incredulity. There’s a whole array of faces and gestures but no words.

Derek lets himself roll down the soft slope of the roof and drop over the side of it. He lands on his back because he’s made no effort to stop his fall. For a few moments he just lies in the grass in the Stilinski yard and cringes. _My mom has invited you to dinner?!_ He couldn’t have found anything more inane to say if he tried.

 

 

As anticipated school on Friday is weird. Stiles is weird. He’s quieter than usual but it’s as if nothing’s happened although some of the silences may be due to tiredness. The dark rings under his eyes show up starkly on his pale skin and he yawns almost continuously, driving the teachers to sarcastic or solicitous remarks depending on their disposition. Stiles just mutters, “Well, _someone_ kept me awake all night,” under his breath.

Most of the day he’s in conversation with Scott and Allison talking about dinner at the Argents last night. Yes, Derek listens in when they’re making it clear that they want to be left alone during lunch. Of course, Lydia blatantly ignores the clues and sits next to Allison anyway bringing her entourage with her. So that leaves Derek to sit by himself because he seems to be the only one not rude enough to force himself on people who don’t want his company. Or maybe he’s the only one not wanted.

Kate is also difficult to ignore. She calls on him a few times during class but he’s not paying attention and has to make excuses. Stiles doesn’t even bother with those and just gives a particularly long-winded answer that doesn’t mean anything at all other than _I can string so many words together that you forget the question and will be thankful when I’m finally done talking_. Kate seems merely amused.

Greenberg gives Derek a chance to slip away after the lesson by engaging Kate with some questions he has about their homework. It’s just a temporary reprieve as he well knows because at some point he will have to talk to her and soon. After what happened last night he really has to stop meeting with her. He’s not looking forward to _that_ conversation.

It’s on the way to the lacrosse field that Stiles comes jogging up to him. “Hey, Derek,” he says as if these aren’t the first words they’re exchanging since last night. “Tell your mom I can’t make it tonight but I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Derek assumes his own face looks as dumbfounded as Stiles’s did last night.

 

 

When Stiles arrives the next day, it’s only three o’clock and it’s not as if Derek's been waiting on the porch since midday. Not at all, he just likes to sit in the swing seat to read.

It’s a little awkward at first because Derek doesn’t know what to say and Stiles seems to have taken to using mainly some form of ‘sign language’ that involves comical faces and gestures because he’s worried about being overheard by the rest of the family. But twenty minutes later it doesn’t matter anyway because the two of them are ensconced in the tree house, making out like it’s the last thing they’ll ever do. Somehow Derek manages to conveniently forget that there are reasons why kissing Stiles is a bad idea. 

When Derek and Stiles come down for dinner, his parents exchange a subtle look that Stiles luckily doesn’t catch. No doubt they can tell by their combined scents what they’ve been up to. But he knows no one will say anything. Packs couldn’t live together if things like that bothered them.

It’s a blessing that Laura’s out with her friends. She would tease him mercilessly about this as he does every time she’s with someone. Fortunately Olivia and Cora are obliviously chatting to Stiles but Peter gives Derek knowing looks. A couple of times he starts to speak but the adults at the table override him smoothly every time.

This is how it was with Paige, too. His parents welcomed her with easy acceptance and affection. And after all was said and done, after their secret was preserved and Derek was safe from the law, he’s sure they genuinely grieved her loss. He was just too caught up in his own emotions to pay attention.

And they’re already so fond of Stiles when they barely know him, talking to him as if they’ve known him for years, protecting him from Peter’s barbed comments and radiating good will. He doesn’t deserve his family. He’s brought them nothing but trouble.

For a couple of minutes he's lost track of the conversation but it appears to focus on school for the most part anyway. Boring. That is until he catches a few words that make him come to attention with alacrity, his heart giving an unpleasant blip that only Peter seems to notice, frowning at him a little with raised eyebrows.

“Well, maybe she’s different with the parents but she’s not really what you’d expect of a teacher,” Stiles is saying.

Derek knows exactly whom he’s talking about and how the fuck did they get onto this subject in the first place? He tries to catch Stiles’s eye but Stiles is ignoring him – even when Derek kicks him under the table.

His parents look at each other. “We didn’t see the English teacher at the parent-teacher evening. Mrs. Langlands just had the baby, of course, and we were told that the new teacher only taught the class for a week so far so we all got letters from Mrs. Langlands about your progress instead. Is there a problem with her? Derek?”

“No, no problem,” Derek mumbles, trying again to warn Stiles to shut up without actually saying it.

Stiles is happily focusing on his mother. “She’s not a bad teacher but she’s not much older than we are.”

“They have to start somewhere after college,” his mother interjects.

“True. But her niece's dating my best friend and that’s seriously weird. And her family's really creepy. Her brother was the guy who shot at the mountain lion that night. My dad was fuming. They’re gun dealers, too. I’m telling you the whole family's super creepy probably all the way back to the first Argent.”

Derek, who’s still trying to attract Stiles’s attention, abruptly feels a chill and turns to his parents. Everything seems to come to a standstill. His sisters now sense a sudden unease and look at their mother for reassurance. Even without being a werewolf, Stiles rolls his shoulders, uncomfortably disturbed by the change in the atmosphere from the relaxed mood of a moment ago to tense alertness.

After a pause long enough to give Derek and Stiles time to exchange an apprehensive glance at each other, it’s his father who speaks. His voice is a little gravelly and somehow ominous when he asks in a voice aiming for casualness and missing by miles, at least to Derek's ears, “What did you say the name of your teacher was?”

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

**13**

 

Stiles has been through the third degree many times – his dad’s in law enforcement after all and always trying to catch him out. But it was never anything like this before because he’s very much aware that the Hales will know when he’s lying, an advantage his father would probably kill to have. He understands now why Derek vacillates between an almost naïve openness and reticent grumpiness. If you can’t lie, you either tell the truth by default or speak as little as possible.

It’s lucky he _wants_ to impart as much information as he can. So he happily tells them about his dinner at the Argents, about how creepy he thinks Kate is and how much she fits in with the other adult members of her family in that respect. Every now and then he weaves in some remark about how nice Allison is in contrast.

His suspicion that this is some kind of family feud hardens when Mrs. Hale asks him if there were any other family members, older ones, a grandfather perhaps? He shakes his head. “Nah, I’d know. Allison would have mentioned it at some point.” He licks his lips, anticipating the reaction to his next words. “They asked about you. I mentioned Derek and they asked how well I know his family and how well my dad knows you. You know them, don’t you?”

Mrs. Hale nods. “Not personally. But some of our… friends know them.”

“Yeah, they said they know you only by reputation. They never said what that reputation was though. Is this a Capulet and Montague thing?”

She chuckles. “I think if you’re dating Derek and their daughter is dating your best friend we dodged the bullet on that one. I wouldn’t really like to predict the outcome otherwise.”

“Family feud, I knew it,” Stiles says, somewhat satisfied. “I suppose you won’t tell me what it’s about either?”

“You suppose right. It would be difficult to explain. These things usually are. It’s not as serious as you probably imagine either.”

Since he can’t tell them that he knows all about werewolves and that they might as well tell him, he gives up. He’ll simply worm it out of Derek later. _If_ Derek's still talking to him. It’s not that Stiles didn’t notice Derek trying to get his attention but he wasn’t going to be deterred from disclosing what he knows. Derek's parents _should_ know. He feels better now that he’s done something as if the responsibility has been lifted off him.

Mr. Hale starts asking about the dance in a week’s time and Stiles realizes suddenly that he has two dates now. Not so long ago the idea that he would have someone to take – or be taken by – to the Winter Formal was laughable. Now he needs to find a way to juggle both, Allison and Derek. He’s already spinning ideas in his head, only half listening to Derek's dad talking to his son about formal wear. Ah yes, that reminds him that he doesn’t really have anything to wear to the occasion. On the other hand, whatever he might be wearing isn’t likely to make him look any less plain next to either of his dates.

Mrs. Hale politely excuses herself to make some phone calls and the dinner is finished soon after. They all clear the table together and Stiles decides that prudence is the better part of valor and that he should go home. If Derek is annoyed about what he did, he’ll probably calm down after a while. Stiles isn’t willing to apologize for something he believes in very strongly and that won’t go down well.

But Derek has other ideas. “I’ll just go with Stiles to his house and then I’ll go on my run from there.”

Mrs. Hale comes back into the kitchen just then and smiles. “Not tonight, sweetie. You can see Stiles tomorrow if you want.”

Derek looks like his mother has never before denied him anything in his life, completely and utterly thunderstruck. There’s a pause and Stiles waits with curious anticipation to see how the family dynamics play out in the Hale household. Will there be a tantrum complete with shouting and banging doors? A quiet pleading involving puppy dog eyes? When Derek just nods and says, “Okay,” it’s Stiles’s turn for astonishment. Neither he nor Scott would ever just take a refusal without a lengthy argument.

“I’ll just walk him out then,” Derek says after Stiles has said his goodbyes.

When they’ve reached his Jeep, Laura’s Camaro comes speeding down the path through the woods and stops next to them. She gets out and looks worriedly at Derek, ignoring Stiles completely, “Mom called. Is everything okay?”

“As far as I know,” Derek answers giving Stiles a glare that clearly means the opposite.

She nods, greets Stiles warmly and then rushes into the house.

Stiles makes a _what’s going on_ flail but Derek is still glowering, so he asks a little apprehensively, “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“If I’m allowed _out of the house._ ” There’s a spark of defiance there that Stiles finds reassuring. At least there’s something of a normal teenager in Derek even if it’s more directed at Stiles than at his mother. Then Derek moves closer and kisses him and that’s the end of every thought Stiles has in his head.

 

 

When he gets home he has his phone out before he’s opened the front door. Then he reluctantly puts it back into his pocket. For years now he’s been sharing every little detail of his life with Scott whether his friend wanted to know or not. But how can he expect him to grasp the significance of what happened tonight when he can’t tell him about werewolves? Or what Kate is doing with Derek? It’s a little disconcerting especially since he can’t talk to his dad for the same reasons.

“Did you eat?” he asks when he gets to the kitchen.

His father, who’s doing some paperwork at the table, looks up. “I did. Why are you home so early? What’s going on with you and Derek? First he leaves in the middle of your sleepover and now you must have left straight after dinner. I didn’t expect you before midnight.”

“That’s nice. Other parents would be ecstatic if their teenage children were to spend time with them at home. But what do I get? _I didn’t expect you_.” His imitation of his father’s voice is deliberately awful.

“You’re deflecting,” his dad sing-songs.

Stiles shrugs. “They had some unexpected family thing.” He rummages around in the fridge, knowing full well that there aren’t any snacks in there because he’s the one removing them regularly. With his hand on a soda can he says into the white, cold interior of the appliance, “Derek and I are dating.” Then he stills with baited breath until he can hear some kind of reaction.

There’s a mere huff and an almost bored, “You’re not gay.”

He turns around surprised. It’s not the answer he expected. “Why not?”

His dad looks up from his work and passes his eyes over him from top to bottom. “Not dressed like that you’re not.”

Stiles feels instantly aggrieved. “First of all it’s a stereotype that all gays have fashion sense or are even interested in it and I expected better of you. Secondly when your son comes out to you, you’re supposed to say emotional stuff like _I still love you_. And thirdly I’m not _gay_ I’m obviously bi. I mean I’m sure you’ve been well aware of my crush on Lydia and if I’m now dating Derek I’m bisexual. It’s a thing that exists.”

Finally putting his pen down, his dad turns his body towards him, frowning a little. “You’re serious.” It’s a statement rather than a question. He rubs his eyes tiredly. “So when you ask me if Derek could sleep over the other night, you were basically sneaking in your boyfriend under the radar for an unsupervised sleepover?”

“What? No! I mean we weren’t, not that night, I mean, not when I phoned you, that was later.”

“So you two decided to start dating during your sleepover and then Derek left? That doesn’t sound like any teenager I’ve ever known. And today you’re home early. Son, did he… take advantage of you and now he no longer wants to know?”

“What? No! He’s a little confused. So he doesn’t… I don’t know… we’re taking it slow.” Stiles throws up his arms. “I don’t know, okay? I really like him, Dad, but he’s… anyway nothing happened.”

“Okay, but you’ll let me know if you’re at all unsure about anything… anything at all… and you’ll be safe, right?”

“Dad!” Stiles is praying that his father won’t insist on giving him the full safe sex lecture – again. The one when he was twelve is still edged in his mind as one of the more embarrassing conversations between them.

Turning back to his papers his dad says with fake nonchalance. “Naturally, you and Derek won’t have any more sleepovers.”

“Naturally.” Stiles thinks that went rather well as coming out goes, although he doesn’t know anyone who has personal experience with it. Well, Danny must have but they're not on such terms where Danny would tell him something so personal. The reason Stiles did tell his father now - apart from the fact that he wouldn't be able to keep it to himself for more than five minutes under any circumstances - is precisely because he didn’t want to be tempted to lie to him by omission next time a sleepover is on the cards. His dad would rightly be disappointed in him if he did that.

“And Stiles?”

Stiles is already by the stairs but sticks his head back into the kitchen. “Yes?”

His father’s still occupied with his work, head down, looking tired. “There’s nothing you could ever say, do or _be_ that would make me love you any less.”

Stiles’s heart beats faster, his throat constricts a little and he feels warm all over. “You, too, Dad,” he croaks.

Upstairs he sends a text to Derek, _all good?_

It takes two hours for the answer to arrive, _I’m practically grounded. Thanks_

Despite sending numerous more texts that’s all he gets from Derek for the rest of the night.

 

 

The next morning Stiles is woken up by the sound of the doorbell at nine o’clock. _Oh, come on! It’s Sunday!_ He can hear his father stir and eventually pad down the stairs. There’s a murmured conversation, first at the door, then in the living room. Just as Stiles has decided it’s probably police stuff and is in the process of dropping off again, his father opens the door to his room after his familiar sharp knock designed to wake even hibernating bears if need be.

“Could you come downstairs for a moment?” he says with his serious face on.

“I didn’t do it,” Stiles mumbles habitually still half under the cover.

“You’re not in trouble, but Talia’s here and we’d like a word.”

Stiles pulls the cover back in surprise but his dad has already shut the door again. It’s a knack he has when he wants Stiles to do as he’s told without argument: tell him something to arouse his interest and then cut off communication until Stiles complies.

Normally Stiles would just go down in his pajamas but this is Derek's mom and without being able to say why, she instills a lot of respect that he’s not usually willing to pay adults. There’s just something about her. _Alpha powers,_ his brain supplies helpfully.

Being told that he isn’t in any trouble doesn’t really do much for him. His mind conjures up a dozen or so scenarios where he won’t be in trouble per se but it will still be unpleasant. And just because _he’s_ not in hot water doesn’t mean nobody else is – like Derek, for example. He wishes even more now that Derek had answered his messages last night, if only so that he’d know what to say – or what not to say, more likely.

When he gets downstairs in proper clothes after he’s brushed his teeth and washed his face, his father has relocated to the kitchen to make coffee. “Morning, Dad.” Stiles gives him a long look that his dad answers with a nod towards the living room. Stiles goes to greet their visitor.

Mrs. Hale’s smile is as friendly as always. “Good morning, Stiles.”

“Good morning, Ma’am.”

“There’s no need to be so formal. I just wanted to ask you some more about your English teacher. Thank you, John.” She accepts a mug from his father, supporting it in the palm of one hand while the other holds the handle.

When Stiles takes his own mug from his dad it’s scorching hot and he quickly balances it on the arm of the couch where he’s sat down. His dad’s in his usual armchair and Mrs. Hale is occupying the other – did she sniff out which one to take when she came in? She looks out of place in their tiny living room. The Hale house is huge by comparison as befits a large family. But Stiles also remembers the china tableware they eat from whenever he’s there and looks at his Batman mug with a frown. The Hales are worlds’ apart from his dad and him in more ways than one.

Mrs. Hale takes a sip and smiles at Stiles’s dad appreciatively. Stiles didn’t realize that the Stilinski coffee is so good. He just knows that his dad’s coffee tastes better than the coffee he makes for them. Stiles takes a drink of his own and waits. Normally he would fill the silence with seemingly pointless chatter. It always works for him but he’s tongue-tied because he’s not sure how this ability to detect lies works.

“Stiles,” she says gently. “You said yesterday that you find Miss Argent ‘creepy’. I’m a little concerned about Derek as I’m sure you’ll understand. Is there something I should know?”

“Like what?” Stiles asks faux innocently.  He can hear his dad take an exasperated breath and keeps his eyes firmly on their guest.

“I’m not sure. Anything. Does she pick on him in class?”

“Not at all. If anything, she favors Derek.”

“Does she now?” Mrs. Hale takes another sip looking pensive.

Stiles really wants to tell her everything but he also doesn’t want to get Derek any more grounded than he already is. Derek didn’t do anything wrong – well, apart from still insisting that Kate isn’t a disturbing sexual predator. In some ways Derek is incredibly naïve. Maybe it’s natural when you don’t have to fear anybody in the physical sense. Plus he was home-schooled to high school age and that can’t be good for developing healthy interpersonal skills. What it comes down to is a question of whom Stiles trusts more and Derek has already proven that he’s blind to what Kate’s doing. He also has been pretty resistant to Stiles’s advice on the matter.

He sighs. “She keeps talking to him after class.” When Mrs. Hale just raises her eyebrows he adds, “And she always tells me to leave the room and shuts the door. It’s just for a few minutes each time but it’s kind of weird.”

“Indeed,” she agrees. “Is there anything else?”

He shakes his head.

“Thank you for telling me. I didn’t want to act on just my feelings of unease.”

Stiles nods and gets up because it’s an obvious dismissal. He really hopes her actions won’t impact on Derek too much but he’ll just have to convince Derek that it was the right thing to do in that case. The Hales don’t seem the types of people who give out draconian punishments at any rate.

“It was nice to see you again,” Mrs. Hale says with her enigmatic smile. “And thank you for being honest. I’m very grateful.”

Later Stiles will think about the conversation and remember how she was intimidating and amiable in equal measure, a feat that isn’t easy to pull off. And how he simply couldn’t _not_ tell her anything because her demeanor just screamed her concern for Derek.

 

*** * ***

 

When Derek gets back into the house, his younger sisters have disappeared upstairs and his parents, Laura and Peter are gathered around the kitchen table looking at him expectantly. Knowing that this conversation is inevitable, he sits down heavily.

“Your English teacher is an Argent?” Laura starts without any accusation in her voice. “Is she the blonde with the short skirts that has every guy in the vicinity drooling?”

Peter snorts. “Well, that explains why Derek can’t seem to think straight any longer.”

“Peter, shut up,” his mother says coldly before addressing Derek in a much gentler voice, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Tell you what? She’s my English teacher. What’s to tell? Laura’s seen her. Until today I assumed you saw her at the parent-teacher conference. I had no reason to say anything.”

“Please tell me you’re not that stupid,” Peter says. “She’s an _Argent._ ”

“Meaning?”

“You speak French. Use your brain. The Argents are the reason people think silver bullets can kill us. They’re the original hunters, like, the ones who started it.”

Feeling unwell all of a sudden, Derek lowers his eyes. Is it possible that he misjudged Kate that badly? Maybe hunters aren’t as terrible as they’re made out to be just as werewolves are nothing like the folklore about them suggests. Why can’t people just live in peace? Whenever his parents told that one day hunters may want to kill him for what he is, he always pictured them to be easy to spot, strangers with guns in their hands and loathing in their eyes and spittle flying when they spew their hatred. He simply can’t imagine someone he knows and who knows him would kill him in cold blood.

“Is there something we should know?” his mother asks.

Derek hates her tone. It’s the same she used after Paige, patient, sympathetic, pitying. So he reacts the same way, stubbornly refusing to look up or speak. He’s not going to give them the impression that he messed up again. He hasn’t. Nothing’s happened, nothing they need to know.

There’s a pause. “Okay. So we know there are hunters in town. That changes things. We need to be very careful. I don’t want any of you to go anywhere alone. No more running through the woods alone. You and Laura go to school together and come home together. If you have after-school things your dad or I will make arrangements. You can be in public places on your own or with your friends but not anywhere where you’ll be alone, like the woods.”

Derek groans. Since he doesn’t have a car, he’ll have to rely on his sister and his parents to go anywhere. “For how long?”

“Until we’ve assessed how much of a risk the Argents pose. I may have to talk to Mrs. Argent. This is not a game. Do not try to get round these measures on technicalities. That goes especially for you.” She gives her brother a long look.

Peter shrugs. Whether he’s going to stick to the new rules is anybody’s guess.

“How am I going to see Stiles?” Derek asks incensed.

“The same way you get to school: by taking precautions. This isn’t punishment. This is survival. I need you to do this. All of you.”

That’s so… dramatic. Surely things aren’t that dire. This can’t be the first time hunters have lived in the area. He listens to the rest of the conversation in silence. Laura agrees reluctantly to apply as a chaperone for the Winter Formal as if anybody would attack Derek in full view of the other pupils and the teachers. They discuss their schedules for the next week and the changes seem to be minimal. So he’ll be driven to a lot of places he would otherwise walk to. For anyone but him that would be a bonus.

He escapes upstairs after more than two hours. Despite his mother’s calmness he got the impression that she’s very much on edge and it makes him more disposed to forgive her for placing restrictions on him. But then he gets a text from Stiles asking if everything’s okay. _All good?_ No, nothing’s good. Thanks to Stiles he can no longer run on his own. He needs to have that time by himself away from everyone. So he sends back a nasty reply and then switches his phone off.

Later when he’s in bed he regrets it. Stiles is not at fault. His mother’s reaction to the news has given Derek food for thought. Maybe Stiles is closer to the truth with his suspicions than Derek is with his basic trust in people. Maybe not. Maybe the truth is somewhere in between or much worse than either imagines. Be that as it may, Stiles acted on his best judgment, trying to find a middle ground between not saying anything and telling all. He could have disclosed so much more and didn’t because he could achieve his objective without making life worse for Derek. Derek wishes he could have Stiles’s foresight and determination. Instead he just always takes the path of the least resistance because he hates conflict.

 

 

The next morning his mother leaves the house early, much against her usual habit. Sundays are sacred family days, when she doesn’t work, doesn’t socialize with anybody unless it also involves her family and is always available for a talk or just company.

Derek switches his phone on to an explosion of texts from Stiles, which he reads with increasing amusement. Stiles is by far the funniest person he knows. He doesn’t seem to hold a grudge either because none of the texts sound annoyed despite Derek's silence last night. He’s in the process of composing a message to expresses his apology without actually saying it, when he gets another one: _Your mom was here. Asking about K. Only told her K likes to talk to u after class. Soz. Had to say sthg._

Looks like Derek has to make something up for when his mother asks what Kate wanted to talk about. At least he’s forewarned. He writes, _It’s okay. I know what she’s like. Wanna meet?_

_Can you? I thought you were grounded?_

_I said practically grounded not actually._

_????_

_I’ll explain later. Can you come and get me?_

_Oh I’ll get you alrite. C u in 20_

His dad gives his permission without hesitation, offering to drive him until he hears that Stiles is picking him up. When Derek is already in his jacket and on his way to wait for Stiles outside, his dad comes to the door. “It’s not going to be forever,” he says consolingly. “This is not on you either. You didn’t do anything wrong. We’re just being careful.”

“I know, Dad,” he mutters. Somehow his family’s consideration always makes him feel worse. He didn’t tell them the whole truth so their kindness seems undeserved. On the other hand, how is telling them that he met with Kate in private going to add anything useful? It will just make him appear clueless again and he’s too embarrassed to admit that he fucked up again.

His dad pats his shoulder and lets him go. Derek feels watched when he’s waiting on the porch although he knows it’s just paranoia. His father wouldn’t be checking up on him while he’s still on the property. Nevertheless he’s glad when Stiles turns up in his Jeep, makes a sweeping turn and waits with the engine running for him to get in.

If the sheriff has an opinion on what’s been going on it’s impossible to tell. He’s as jovial as ever and takes his son’s new relationship in his stride. Derek's starting to warm to him, especially because Stiles’s fondness for his dad is unmistakable. The memory of how the sheriff treated him last year, although in itself terrible because of the situation, still fills Derek with gratitude.

 

 

Life goes on as normal. No hunters jump out at him at every turn. He goes to school, he plays lacrosse, he hangs out with Stiles, he goes home. Nothing’s changed. Well, he and Stiles make out at every opportunity and that’s pretty much life-changing but other than that everything is normal, just like he thought it would be. It was all a fuss about nothing.

He spends far too much time thinking about what he wants to say to Kate on Wednesday. It’s obvious that they can’t meet anymore. The practical difficulties alone would make that impossible. But he’s also glad that it’s over. Now that he has Stiles he wonders how he ever ended up doing what he did with Kate. He really needs to stop drifting. Maybe it’s time to decide what he wants in life instead of trying out different things to see if they suit him. He already knows that Stiles is not in that same category. He is definitely someone Derek wants to keep in his life and he’s willing to make any effort for that.

Stiles offers to stay with him after English on Wednesday so that he has some moral support but Derek tells him to wait outside. It’s not as if he has problems standing up for himself when he needs to. He just rarely sees the need. But they’re both surprised when a new teacher walks into the classroom and explains he will be their substitute teacher until Mrs. Langlands returns.

After the lesson, Derek and Stiles crowd Allison who tells them her aunt went on a trip the night before. No other explanation is forthcoming because Allison doesn’t know any.

Derek's not exactly upset about this turn of events.

The dance on Saturday takes over the school or at least their year. The gym is being decorated from Thursday onwards and people are talking excitedly in small groups. Derek goes for a fitting on Wednesday, accompanied by his dad, who tells him he’s glad that Derek decided to go and talks about how much he likes Stiles, meaning that he’s happy Derek's back to socializing more.

The knowledge that he still has to tell Stiles about the biggest lie of his life is weighing on Derek like lead. The closer they become, the more he realizes that he’s in love for the first time in his life, the more terrifying is the idea of saying the words, _I killed Paige_. He knows he needs to be sure – sure that this relationship will last, sure that Stiles will understand, sure that there’ll be no repercussions for his family. It gives him an excuse not to tackle the matter just yet. The real test for him will be to decide when the time to wait and see is over. With his natural tendency to let things slide, not ever getting around to telling Stiles the truth will be very tempting but somehow he knows that his relationship cannot work in the long run if he doesn’t. He wouldn’t be able to live like that and knowing Stiles, he would probably sense the distance between them. He also doesn’t think for one minute that Stiles has forgotten his words when they got together. Eventually he’ll insist on hearing the truth.

They agree that Stiles will still pick up Allison for the dance, but slightly earlier than necessary. Derek will go to the school with Laura and because she’s managed to wrangle one of the chaperone positions, they’re also setting out early.

The full moon is out and he can’t believe that it’s been just over a month since they came back to school after the winter break. It doesn’t seem possible that so much has happened in such a short time.

“Sorry you have to go with me, little bro. I know it’s a bit uncool.”

Derek pulls a face. He hates it when she calls him that. “I think the Camaro even beats Jackson’s Porsche so you’re cool enough.”

She smiles. “So you and Stiles are… serious?... fooling around a bit?... ?”

He shrugs. “I’m gay.”

She looks at him with a bemused expression. “I should hope so with you and Stiles making all those sickly-sweet PDAs and going to the dance as dates and all.”

“No. Well, yes. But that’s not what I meant. I meant I realized that I’m gay, not bi or anything or going through a phase or gay for Stiles. I’m just gay.”

There’s a long pause. “Yeah, good for you.”

He laughs. It’s not often that his sister is stuck for words. “Oh come on, give me a break. I only realized it when I met Stiles. Before that I was just wondering why nothing’s like the movies. I like girls - _a lot_. They’re awesome and I find most guys annoying, so I assumed I was into girls. And then Stiles came along and suddenly it all clicked into place, you know?”

“It’s not easy finding your own way. I’m glad for you. It’s not as if what we are makes our lives any easier.”

He smiles and looks out the window. The dance being on the night of the full moon was one of the reasons that he initially decided not to go. It’s unusual for any of the family to spend the full moon away from home. Today is extra special because both his aunts and their families came to see him dressed up for his first dance. A small part of him wants to be with them but they’ll stay until tomorrow night for the monthly barbecue anyway. Stiles will also be there, which will make it even better.

“And by the way, being straight is nothing like the movies either,” Laura says as she parks the car. “Romance just doesn’t work like that.”

They walk towards the school together and although Laura’s wearing a subdued dress designed not to show up any of the people the dance is held for, he thinks she could wear a potato sack and still be the most beautiful.

When they’re inside the hall she turns and fiddles with his shirt collar a little. “I shall go and chaperone the hell out of you kids. You, my brother, will be the handsomest guy at the ball and Stiles will have to pick up his jaw off the floor when he sees you. Go and have fun.”

There’s not much fun to be had yet, since only the chaperones and the teachers have arrived. He feels a strange relief that Kate’s not among them. Then he sits on the bleachers that have been left out on one side of the gym. His heart is pounding in his throat with anticipation. It’s been six hours since he last saw Stiles. And as always when they’re apart it’s been way too long.

After the first couples arrive, his phone vibrates with a message from Stiles, _at school. Where r u?_      

He smiles and jumps up to find his boyfriend. He has a _boyfriend!_  Who’d have thunk it? This is going to be the best night of his life.

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

**14**

 

Stiles is wearing a plain white shirt with a tie, dress pants and a jacket. His dad suggested buying him a suit for the occasion but Stiles declined. He didn’t see the point in wasting money on an evening that he’d most likely spend sitting forgotten in a corner somewhere and wouldn’t even be able leave early because he has to take Allison home. Of course, all that’s changed now that he’s meeting Derek there.

When she answers the door, Mrs. Argent looks at him like he’s something particularly unpleasant stuck on the bottom of her shoe. Fiddling nervously with his tie, he steps into the hallway and watches Allison come down the stairs in a shimmering, asymmetrical dress. Suddenly he doesn’t have to feign his adoration any longer. She’s simply stunning.

“You look…” he starts but stops himself.

Her father glares at him as if being impressed by her is a crime or a precursor to sex. Stiles tries a smile, awkwardly handing Allison the corsage Scott gave him. She smiles fondly at the flowers understanding perfectly. Or maybe not quite since Stiles is pretty convinced that Melissa is responsible for this one.  

Mr. Argent suggests having a drink before they leave but Allison tells him with a sweet smile that Stiles has already been 'sufficiently interrogated' at the dinner last week and they would rather leave now. Stiles listens in awe.

“You’re a little scary sometimes,” he tells her as he holds the door to the Jeep open for her.

“Years of practice,” she returns.

He gives an awkward wave to her parents and then promptly stumbles down the curb as he rounds the car. He just manages to catch himself on the hood. _Great._ No wonder Mr. and Mrs. Argent look like they want to murder him. They must be wondering what she sees in him.

Allison waves to them as well, but turns to him eagerly as soon as the car starts moving. “I overheard my dad talking to Kate. Apparently she didn’t just _leave_ , she got _fired_.”

“Kate’s back?” he asks a little dismayed.

“No, they were on the phone. They thought I’d put my extension down after I spoke to her. So I managed to listen in. She said she got fired because a parent found out that she doesn’t have a teaching diploma. She thinks it was Derek's mom. So does Dad.”

“She isn’t even a teacher? How did she get the job?”

“You don’t know Kate. She can talk her way in and out of anything. Plus she’s gorgeous. If she wants something, she’ll get it. But do you think it’s true? Do you think it was Derek's mom?”

Yes, Stiles thinks that Mrs. Hale is also someone who gets what she wants without fail and she’s a well-respected member of the Beacon Hills society, whereas the Argents only just moved here. He just hopes that Allison won’t blame Derek for this because then things will get very awkward between Stiles and Derek on the one side and Allison and Scott on the other.

He shrugs. “Does it matter? If she’s not a teacher she shouldn’t’ve been teaching. Do you know where she is?”

“She didn’t say, not even to Dad, but she told me I’d see her soon.”

In Stiles’s opinion that’s a real shame. He was hoping she’d run with her metaphorical tail between her admittedly shapely legs never to return. He listens patiently to Allison’s speculation about what Kate might be doing and when she’ll be back, but he’s glad when they reach the school. He really doesn’t share her enthusiasm for her aunt. It’s the equivalent of Derek thinking his Uncle Peter’s a great guy. Luckily Derek has more sense than that.

Scott’s already waiting for them and opens the car door for Allison. "Finally,” he says to Stiles as if they’re late instead of among the first to arrive. Then he falls silent, almost certainly overcome by Allison’s beauty or some shit like that.

Stiles ignores them and sends Derek a text instead, asking him where he is. He’s spotted the Camaro so he knows Derek's already here.

“Thank you,” Allison says when Stiles has half-fallen out of his Jeep.

“Yeah, thanks, bro,” Scott agrees clapping him on the shoulder.

Stiles starts to say something about brothers, best friends and having each others’ back, when Derek comes through the double doors of the school entrance and down the steps. And he’s wearing a fucking tuxedo! Nobody else could carry off wearing one as casually as Derek does. His natural grace prevents the impression of trying too hard that so often emanates from people like Jackson.

“Nice suit,” Allison says as she walks past him on Scott’s arm.

Derek's eyes remain firmly on Stiles, his smile a little uncertain. Stiles takes a deep breath and says hoarsely, “Yeah, you look fantastic.”

“You, too,” Derek smiles and kisses him on the lips.

There doesn’t seem to be any point in leaving it at just the one kiss, so they make out until they’re lit up by the headlights of a car because they’re blocking the parking space. Stiles grins and takes Derek's hand. “Shall we get our picture taken?”

“We can try.”

They spend a few minutes huddled together while Derek explains in a low voice that his eyes will create a light effect when he looks into the camera. How cool is that? Stiles has a dozen or so questions on the subject that Derek answers with a fond smile. In the end Derek looks at Stiles while they’re photographed. Stiles doesn’t mind it at all.

The hall is already warming up. They wander over to get drinks before sitting down with Scott and Allison. Stiles is relieved that Allison doesn’t mention her aunt because he doesn’t want anything to darken the magical mood. Derek is smiling like his features can only form that one happy expression and it’s almost exclusively aimed at Stiles. Scott talks about his work and some guinea pig that they had to chase all over the surgery and it feels like a double date. A very successful double date.

Stiles can’t believe that this is really happening. He’s never felt like this before, this excitement, happiness and contentment combined with a nagging fear that it will all disappear like the dream it must surely be. He doesn’t get this lucky. He’s always been the guy who pushes through the obstacles life and, more often than not, he himself erect in front of him, not the one for whom everything falls effortlessly into place. When Lydia and Jackson sit down in the last two seats at the table, giving off obvious signs of being in the middle of some tiff, as they usually are, he feels sorry for her for the first time. Her life and talents seem so wasted.

He leans closer to Derek, who immediately leans in to kiss him. “You wanna dance?” he asks when they eventually move apart again.

Derek nods and stands up reaching for his hand. Almost everyone’s arrived by now and it won’t be too awkward dancing among the crowd. Stiles isn’t a great dancer. His emphasis is always on having fun rather than how he looks, which is most likely extremely stupid, but that becomes immaterial almost straight away because the next song is a slow one. Derek grins happily and pulls him closer. All the worries that occupied Stiles's mind for over an hour last night about whose arms are going where vanish in an instant because what could be more natural than swaying with Derek on the spot and leaning their heads on each others’ shoulders?

Derek is warm and smells good and the fabric of his tuxedo feels soft under Stiles’s skin. He only ever daydreamed about slow dancing with Lydia and it’s surprisingly nice to be virtually the same height so their heads touch. His anxiety doesn’t usually allow him to relax in public settings but who even cares about other people? All that counts is being with Derek, so he closes his eyes.

When the song finishes, they momentarily stay how they are before separating reluctantly and staring at each other. The faster music setting in grates on Stiles’s nerves and Derek must be feeling the same way because he nods almost imperceptibly towards the exit.

The full moon is out but Derek doesn’t appear affected by it. He pulls Stiles along by the hand, first towards the bleachers but there are already several couples placed strategically apart to achieve a modicum of privacy, so they end up by the side of the school.

The cold rough brick wall at his back is a stark contrast to Derek's soft warmth as he kisses him. His hands move under Stiles’s jacket, leaving hot trails where they touch even through his shirt. All of Stiles’s senses are heightened and it only takes Derek's fingertips under the waistband of his pants to make him hard. But it’s okay because Derek's a guy and even if he wasn’t in the same predicament, he’d understand that these things happen and don’t mean anything needs to be done about it right now.

Or maybe that assumption is way off because Derek abruptly pulls away, tearing his body out of Stiles’s arms without any effort despite Stiles holding on like he has tentacles. “What’s wrong?” he whispers, alarmed that he may have done something wrong. Maybe he really is a bad kisser or maybe Derek simply realized that Stiles isn’t good enough for him. His heart clenches painfully at the thought.

When Derek steps back, the moonlight falls on him and Stiles can see that his eyes are glowing a bright blue. _Oh shit!_ Derek's shifting. Stiles should have asked him what happens when werewolves get aroused but as Derek is so much in control of his shift that he can be out on the night of the full moon it never occurred to him there might be a problem. Or could it be the combination of being aroused while the full moon is out?

Stiles isn’t afraid. Derek's not eyeing him with a predatory look so he’s not likely to become prey. In fact, Derek's not looking at anything at all, just staring at a point on the wall about a foot above Stiles’s head with his eyes unfocussed.

“Derek?” Stiles says tentatively, stepping forward and touching his arm with no reaction.

There’s an echoing shout, much louder, much more urgent and forceful, more like a scream. “Derek!”

Stiles guesses it’s Laura although he can’t see her. Derek hesitates just a second longer, murmuring, “Mom,” in a breaking voice, before he turns on his heels and runs off to be swallowed up by the night within seconds.

For a few moments Stiles is stunned. What just happened? He dismisses the idea that it has anything to do with him because it doesn’t make sense that Laura would be involved nor that Derek would say something about his mom. If there’s one thing Stiles understands it’s worrying about your parents, your mother in particular and Derek did say that she has a special bond with everyone in the family because she’s also the alpha. So maybe he felt something that concerned his mother, something terrible because his voice was full of fear.

There’s no chance Stiles will just quietly return to the hall or go home. He wants to help and he needs to know what’s happening. Now, Laura’s shout came from somewhere to the right, near the bleachers, but Derek took off towards the woods, which is also where Laura would end up if she came out of the school and continued on the trajectory she was going. And that means both of them are heading straight for home.

Stiles turns and runs for his Jeep, fumbling his keys out of his pocket and promptly dropping them. He wastes precious time with his knees on the ground and patting the grass in ever increasing circles in the dark until he locates them by touch.

The drive seems never-ending. From his longstanding desire not to cause his father any embarrassment by being caught in a traffic violation, he’s closely familiar with the locations of all the speed cameras and police checkpoints as well as the fastest routes from any point to any other point in town while avoiding all traffic lights. It still takes too long and his initial thought that Derek should have asked him to drive vanishes when he realizes that Derek will probably arrive long before him.

He takes the shortcut Derek showed him on his first visit and it forces him to slow down so that he doesn’t end up hitting anything in the dark. But very soon the night becomes lighter and it doesn’t take him long to understand what the orange glow above the trees means. The Hale house is on fire! And not only that, to give this much light, it must be engulfed in flames up to the rafters.

When he comes out of the woods his wildest fears are confirmed. The house is ablaze in a way that leaves no room for hope that it or anyone inside – _please, not that, anything but that!_ – can be saved. The flames are nearly twice as high as the building and they’re billowing out of every single window and door. As he looks on in shock, part of the roof collapses down into the room underneath causing a huge spray of tiny sparks.

There are plenty of people here already. The blue flashing lights of two police cruisers give him some relief, despite having spent a large part of his life trying to avoid them. The police will always be a comfort to him, at least the Beacon Hills officers will. But there’s not much they can do. Two fire engines are parked closer to the house with fire fighters preparing to start dousing the flames. Others are running off into the woods, carrying equipment and hoses, mostly likely to draw water from the nearby stream.

As he stumbles out of the Jeep, the noise hits him and he suddenly understands why fires are said to be roaring. There is popping and snapping but most of it is a deafening rushing sound. The heat is incredible even from where he is at the edge of the trees and the smoke burns in his lungs.

He can’t see Derek or Laura but his dad and his deputies are busy ordering back a group of onlookers who have gathered out of nowhere and are edging closer. It’s incredible how they got here so quickly or that they found gawking entertaining enough to make the trek out into the preserve. Stiles admires how his dad manages not to shoot every single one of them as they’re preserving this spectacle on their phones. The world is full of callous douchebags.

Suddenly someone seizes his arm and with a surprised yell he turns to come face to face with Derek, who’s somehow soot-stained and singed. Stiles wraps his arms around him in relief, realizing that his biggest fear was that Derek somehow managed to get here quickly enough to run into his home to save his family.

Derek pushes him off. “Help me,” he says but it doesn’t sound desolate but somehow urgent and half-crazed.

“Anything,” Stiles promises, meaning it but knowing full well there’s nothing he – or anyone – can do.

He lets Derek pull him around the perimeter, away from the police and the fire brigade to the back of the house, where Laura appears to be leaning towards the house with both hands pushing at the air. Is she doing an incantation? She turns to look at them approaching, her eyes glowing a deep red. It’s much scarier than Derek's cool blue.

“What d’you bring him for?” she shouts at her brother.

Derek ignores her and drags him close to her. “See that black powder there?” he shouts pointing to the ground. “That’s mountain ash. Break the line!”

Stiles frowns. He remembers Derek telling him that most supernatural creatures can’t pass a continuous line of mountain ash. But surely it will have been broken by someone already, the police or the fire fighters, who are much closer to the house than they are.

“He _knows?_ ” Laura shouts incredulously. Without waiting for an answer she forces Stiles to his knees, causing him to hiss in pain as one of them hits a sharp pebble. “Break it! Now! Hurry!”

Holding out not much hope that he can do this, he rubs his hand through the powder, trying without thinking to make a space big enough for a person to pass through. It proves unnecessary. As soon as he’s cleared a handbreadth, the heat and noise intensify and Laura and Derek rush forward, stepping right over the powder line.

“Don’t,” Stiles whispers, his eyes filling with tears, “You’ll get yourself killed.”

Neither sibling pays him the slightest heed.

 

*** * ***

 

Although Derek's always liked kissing it’s never been like this before, so all-consuming and wonderful. Pressing Stiles against the wall makes him feel horny and tender at the same time, like he urgently needs to take this somewhere they can be alone and also just wants to touch him gently with all the awe he feels for him.

Then all of a sudden there’s a searing pain that isn’t physical, just a range of highly intense emotions from fury to terror to grief and loss. At first he can’t process what’s happening. These feelings are so at odds with what he felt a moment earlier and there’s no indication to the cause. Everything’s as it was. The only other times he’s felt what another person feels is when his mother has been communicating with him, making him feel what she’s feeling for reassurance and to give him strength. But she was always right next to him when that happened and it was always done for his good. This doesn’t even feel deliberate, more like an uncontrolled broadcasting of her emotions and it has an awful finality to it.

Stiles touches him and he comes back to himself enough to hear Laura scream his name. It’s all there in her voice: her fear, her anguish, her despair and even the beginning of hopelessness already and he knows this is too enormous to be anything but a tragedy. He must hurry and try and save his… “Mom.”

He runs. Laura is ahead of him but not far. She’s always been faster and more determined. It’s not determination he’s lacking tonight, it’s speed and the power to turn back time. He can smell the tell-tale signs of what’s happening seconds before he can hear it. Fire! One of the few things that can kill werewolves. This cannot be happening. His conscious thoughts are on _FASTER, you must GO FASTER,_ while at the back of his mind there’s that voice that tells him it’s too late already, that what he felt were his mother’s last moments.

He comes into the clearing and sees his home on fire. There are flames lapping out of every opening. He can see parts of the curtains in his bedroom fluttering ablaze into the air being carried up by the extreme heat. It doesn’t matter. He looks frantically for his family, any of them, trying to extinguish the fire or even just standing and staring, having given up any attempt to stop the disaster. As long as they’re alright. Surely they must be somewhere out here.

Ten yards in front of him Laura is racing towards the front door, ignoring the heat, just as door is blown off its hinges as the room behind it reaches its flashover point. Laura flies backwards in an arc, landing on her back next to where he is. She’s up again in a second, looking at him frantically and crying, “Mountain ash.”

Derek reels back, not just from the sudden realization that this is no accident but also because her eyes are blazing red. He wants to believe it’s a trick of the light, a reflection of the flames, but he can’t manage to deceive himself. It can only mean one thing: that the power of the alpha has been passed on. His mother is dead.

It’s almost enough to buckle his knees, but Laura is already off to round the house to find some other way to get in. It’s hopeless because if the ring of mountain ash was disturbed at any point they would be able to cross anywhere. And if they can’t get _in_ …

He follows her mainly because there are lights coming through the woods now, flashing blue ones and the bright white of several headlights. The police and the fire fighters will stop him from doing anything if they see him and he can’t just stand here.

Laura is bathed in an orange hue as she’s leaning against the mountain ash perimeter. It looks like she’s miming pushing something heavy out of the way. Does she even know that she’s the alpha now? She’s always been their mother’s chosen successor, so being the alpha doesn’t mean that everyone else is dead, too.

“Find someone to break the fucking barrier!” she shouts, her voice strained from her exertion.

He doesn’t react. Where is he going to find someone to do that out here and at night? It would need to be someone in the know because no matter how many people walk through the barrier without noticing or recognizing its significance, only someone who deliberately breaks the ring can stop its power from working. As long as even one speck of mountain ash remains where the caster has put it, no supernatural being can cross, not until another person breaks the line by _wanting_ to stop its force.

He tries to help his sister by pushing next to her. It’s strange to touch something you can’t see. There’s a tingling sensation where his hands connect with the barrier and a spongy resistance.

“Find someone!” Laura shouts at him, flashing her eyes and even though it’s new for both of them he feels the urge to obey her direct command.

“Like who? I don’t want to leave.”

“Anyone! Please, Derek, just try!”

The feelings he experiences are horribly familiar. He remembers this from the night Paige died, this turning point from a refusal to believe that no help will come and no miracle will happen and frantic efforts to change fate to acceptance and pain; from _no, no, no, I can do something, I can stop the inevitable_ to _I can’t bear this, someone make the world stop, please._ It's the utter helplessness that makes it so difficult, the knowledge that there's nothing he can do, that he'll have to watch and what he wants is inconsequential. He can scream and cry and pray and make promises and it will not make the tiniest difference.

So he goes with no real hope. Deep down he knows he won't be able to leave the proximity of the house, no matter what Laura says. How can he? Every single member of his family is inside. It would require more strength than he has to abandon them while he goes off on what he knows to be a wild goose chase. But when he rounds the house, trying to stay out of sight of the emergency services that are milling about now, he spots the familiar Jeep and feels deeply grateful that Stiles is here. It only takes him another moment to realize that he’s also the answer to their problem.

Thirty seconds later Stiles is kneeling in the dirt next to Laura wiping away the mountain ash with a single motion of his hand. Derek will never get over how fragile humans can do this one thing so easily that eludes werewolves despite all their strength. He follows his sister but the intense heat makes it hard to breathe and… there’s a second mountain ash ring close to the house. It means the first one was to keep people out and this one is to keep people in.

Laura calls for Stiles again and he tries valiantly to approach but the smoke and the heat are too much for him and he sinks back onto his knees two yards before he reaches the barrier. Derek turns back to him to move him out of harm’s way, but Laura is faster, picking him up with ease and carrying him not away from the fire but towards it.

“Quickly,” she says pleadingly, shouting over the roaring flames. “Just one more.”

Stiles feebly wipes at the ash but it’s enough. Laura passes him to Derek like a sack of potatoes and moves forward while Derek retreats with Stiles setting him down at a safe distance. Stiles is coughing and his eyes are streaming, but he waves Derek away when he asks if he’s okay.

“Just don’t die,” Stiles croaks.

“You, too,” Derek says solemnly. Then he’s on his way back to the house.

It’s futile. He and Laura try several different entry points, but they just can’t get through. His lungs are burning but he knows they'll heal like the burns he sustains on his hands and arms. Their clothes catch fire several times and they have to pat out the flames on each other. Behind the back door and every window they try is a solid wall of fire. The very air seems to be alight.

When the second floor collapses showering them with burning timber, one of them is so heavy it knocks Derek to the ground and sears his stomach in the short time it’s pinning him down until Laura removes it. They retreat reluctantly, each step forced on them, their agonizingly stinging eyes trained on the building hoping against hope that someone will appear from the inside and escape.

A couple of firemen start spraying water on this side now. After a while the sheriff comes around the side of the house, making sure he keeps his distance from the fire, but the haste he displays reveals that someone must have alerted him to his son’s presence. He helps Stiles, who’s still coughing shallowly, to his feet but Stiles refuses to go with him, moving over to Derek instead and taking his hand. Derek barely notices.

“Come round the front,” the sheriff says, not specifying to whom he’s talking. “They’re going to try and get in through the front door.”

They all follow him after that. Stiles doesn’t let go of Derek's hand until a paramedic insists that he’ll get some oxygen in the ambulance and his father makes threatening noises if he doesn’t comply. Derek feels his hand slipping from his more keenly than he felt it being placed there but is vaguely relieved at the same time that Stiles is getting some attention.

As expected the emergency personnel won’t let him and Laura anywhere close to the house any longer. They could fight their way through easily but the spirit has gone out of both of them. There’s no hope left.

When the fire fighters finally go in, Laura doesn’t even try to follow and when the first one reemerges with a small charred body in his arms that he places on the ground next to the house she sinks to her knees, drops her forehead to the ground and keens.

Derek is numb. Despite the awful smell and deep burns he can scent that the body is Olivia. Two hours ago she was giggling happily at his suit and wondering aloud what Stiles would say to it. They were all happy, taking photos and wishing him and Laura a good time. His whole family was gathered for the full moon and staying over for the traditional barbecue the next day.

The sheriff puts a heavy hand on his shoulder and says, “I’m so sorry, son, I really am. Can you tell me how many people were in the house?”

The question doesn’t register as much more than white noise. It’s only when he feels Stiles’s fingers slipping back into his hand that he becomes aware what the sheriff said. Stiles's hand is big and reassuring giving him much needed support. Derek squeezes it, possibly too tight, but there’s no complaint. It takes him several attempts to find his voice and when he does it doesn’t sound like his. It’s too matter-of-fact, too calm when inside he’s screaming louder and harder than ever in his life. But out of his mouth come only the facts: “Eleven. Our whole family’s here. All of them.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all read the tags before you started reading this, right?


	15. Chapter 15

**15**

 

Without any real comprehension Stiles watches the endless succession of bodies being carried out of the building and placed in a long row side by side. Paramedics are checking them over and covering them with blankets – one after the other. It’s the small bodies that get to him the most. He’s met these girls only a month ago when they happily smeared make-up on him. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

Both Laura and Derek suddenly become alert when the sixth or seventh body comes out, even before there’s a shout of, “We have a live one.” They both surge forward through the deputies, who aren’t quick enough to stop them, and reach the firefighters before the paramedics.

“It’s Peter,” Laura says.

Stiles can’t really tell if that’s true because the man is black all over. There isn’t a patch of skin left that isn’t charred and he gives no sound and makes not the slightest movement. Stiles finds himself wondering if it wouldn’t be kinder if he never woke up again.

Laura tells Derek to go with Peter while she stays at the scene but the ambulance won’t take him because the paramedics need room to maneuver as three of them are working on the patient. So Stiles drives Derek to the hospital, closely chasing the ambulance all the way.

His dad must have called ahead because Melissa sidelines him effectively and puts him on oxygen and a heart monitor. Apparently smoke inhalation is dangerous long after the source has been removed. He loses sight of Derek in the bustle of the hurrying medical personnel and not long afterwards Scott appears in his room with Allison in tow, no doubt to keep an eye on him. For once in his life Stiles doesn’t want to talk and lets them piece the events together from what Scott’s mother knows and the rumors flying about the emergency department.

His eyes feel a little better after they’ve been rinsed with a solution but the stinging still continues. Whenever he tries to rest them though, the awful images of the night play out as if the backs of his eyelids are screens and he opens them again pretty quickly. All he wants is to find Derek, but he feels faint and sick, and the smell of smoke is clinging to his nostrils turning every breath into an effort even before the air has a chance to irritate his airways into shallow coughs.

Scott’s asks what happened to his fingers and for the first time Stiles becomes aware of the developing bruises where Derek clenched his hand with a little too much strength. He doesn’t mind as long as he could give a slither of comfort to him – if there can be any comfort at all, which is unlikely as he very well knows. Neither he nor Derek have said more than the bare necessities.

After an hour he sends Scott off to see if he can find Derek or, failing that, pump his mother for information. Not knowing what’s going on is becoming unbearable. It isn’t until Allison says what an awful tragedy all of this is for Derek that Stiles remembers the mountain ash rings and unspecified family feuds and a terrible certainty makes him rip off the oxygen mask, roll out of bed and vomit into the waste bucket in the corner.

Undaunted by this disgusting display Allison simply pours and hands him a glass of water. “Are you okay again now?”

“I will never be okay again,” he says truthfully but paradoxically he feels a little less faint or sick now. As he’s already up, he ventures out of the room and sees Scott coming towards them.

“He’s down there,” Scott says pointing vaguely down the corridor. “No news yet. Should you be out of bed? Mom said you need the oxygen overnight.”

“Later.” Stiles walks towards the other end of the department where the serious cases get treated and finds Derek sitting in the waiting area staring ahead without focus. He only notices Stiles when he sits down in the chair next to him and puts a gentle hand on Derek's thigh. Without looking Derek puts his own hand on top of it and Stiles turns his palm up so their fingers interlace. It’s okay, it’s not the hand that’s bruised.

They stay like that for hours, undisturbed in their private bubble.

 

 

It takes an eternity until his dad arrives with Laura. Her face is very pale which is emphasized by the streaks and patches of soot covering it. She’s unnaturally calm now, standing next to Stiles’s father and listening to the condition of her uncle. When they walked in, Derek just looked at his sister and Stiles thought there was a tiny flicker of hope in his face but it died instantly when Laura met his eyes for only a few seconds.

Everything inside of Stiles feels clenched tight. He remembers Derek saying that there were eleven people in the house. Counting in his head he realizes that he met them all, the five girls, Derek's parents, his mother’s two sisters and his other uncle, plus Peter who’s clinging stubbornly to the tiny bit of life left in his body.

His father comes over to check on him and he ends up promising to go back to his room soon and stay on the oxygen for a while longer but he doesn’t move until there’s news of Peter. It’s not good, the words  _coma_  and  _large scale third-degree burns_  are mentioned and he’s in Intensive Care. Only one person at a time is allowed in there, so Laura says she’ll go and tells Derek to stay in Stiles’s room where she’ll come and get him later.

This seems like a satisfactory solution for now. Scott has long since left to take Allison home and the sheriff goes back out to deal with the aftermath of what’s happened. For a moment Stiles and Derek stand inside his room at a loss what to do or say next. Then Stiles somehow manages to gently push Derek to first sit on the bed, then lie on it, and climbs on next to him. It’s a tight squeeze but doable.

Pulling his oxygen mask back on, he stares into space wondering if Derek will ever speak again. He was practically mute after Paige died and this is infinitely worse. In fact this is so awful, so huge, so unthinkable, that it’s impossible to take in. And that’s not the worst of it: someone did this! That mountain ash didn’t get there on its own, somebody deliberately trapped the Hales in their house and set fire to it. It doesn’t take a genius to work out who the culprits are, but now is not the time to talk about that.

It’s already nearly dawn and he feels exhausted but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep. His mind has trouble switching off at the best of times and despite his efforts he can’t stop thinking about what he saw. None of the images in his head makes sense though. Everything’s distorted and there are only fragments or rather sequences like scenes in a movie, some of them sped up like a montage while others play out in slow motion.

He remembers Laura most vividly. In his mind he sees her darting from one burst window to the next at high speed, on and on ever faster, when in reality she and Derek tried several ways to get inside at each of them and only moved on when they were sure they couldn’t. Then there was her keening which wasn’t very loud in the noise of the fire and the rescue efforts but sounded piercing to Stiles because it was the most desolate sound he ever heard. Other than that he still feels Derek's hand squeezing his and his own thoughts of how he never wants him to let go despite the pain, of how Derek might become lost to him if he lets go.

He startles awake to Melissa entering the room with some breakfast followed almost immediately by his father. Feeling a bit guilty that he dropped off, he wipes awkwardly on a small spot of his drool on Derek's shirt. “Sorry,” he whispers more for not being awake to support him than for soiling Derek's clothes. Derek’s arm around Stiles’s shoulder is clinging on so tight that Stiles fully expects more bruises.

While Melissa checks Stiles over, his dad tells them he’s here to take them home.

“Home?” Stiles echoes, flinching a little from having a thermometer stuck in his ear. He and Derek are sitting side by side on the edge of the hospital bed now. Neither of them gives the food a second glance.

“Yes, I discussed it with your sister.” His dad looks at Derek. “She agreed that you should come home with us for now. She’s just waiting for the results of some more tests they’re doing on your uncle today and then she’ll join us at home. We have a guest room that’s not being used.”

They certainly do. It was Stiles’s mother’s room in the sense that she did her sewing and ironing in there and sometimes used it when she wanted to get away from things. For that very reason his dad’s never claimed it as a home office but eventually put a bed in there to pretend it had some purpose instead of simply being a place he avoided. Stiles can’t even remember if it’s ever been used since then because Scott always sleeps in Stiles’s room.

Half an hour later they walk into the Stilinski house and Stiles is suddenly overwhelmed when he enters the living room and remembers how Derek's mom sat in the armchair only a few days ago. He has to swallow as his throat closes up. She was one formidable woman. Luckily Derek has no such memories of her presence here and just sits on the couch when prompted.

Saying he’ll make some drinks the sheriff gestures Stiles to come with him. In the kitchen he gently shuts the door and turns to his son.

“How did you all get to the Hale house that quickly last night?”

Stiles busies himself with the coffeemaker. “Laura wasn’t feeling well and wanted to go home so I drove both of them.”

“Stiles,” his dad says warningly. “Please remember that there’s a police investigation. I’d rather eliminate you guys early on so that I can do the investigation myself.”

“You’re suspecting  _me?_ ” Stiles glares at him.

His dad sighs and wipes his face tiredly making Stiles wonder if he’s had any sleep yet. “No. I suspect neither you nor Derek or his sister. I just need to know how you got there. And why. The dance wasn’t anywhere near finished.”

“Like I said, Laura wanted to go and I drove them. Derek was with me the whole evening, every minute of it and Laura was in the hall. Plenty of witnesses for that. Then we were all in the car and the fire was already in full swing when we got there.” He hopes Derek is listening in so that he and Laura can get their stories straight.

“Okay, fine.” It’s obvious that his dad still doesn’t quite believe it. “I need to ask you something else.”

Stiles sets out some sodas on a tray and turns back to watch the coffeemaker gurgling.

“Stiles… are you and Derek having sex?”

Incensed Stiles whirls around to stare at him incredulously. “How the fuck is that relevant to any of this?”

His dad puts placating hands up. “It isn’t but it’s relevant to what happens next.”

Still not understanding, Stiles says icily, “No, we’re not. Not yet anyway.”

“Okay. I know I don’t need to tell you that now’s not a good time to start…”

“No, you most certainly don’t! I want to be there for him not take advantage. Jeez, Dad, is that what you think of me?”

There’s another deep sigh. “No, I don’t and if you’d let me finish I would have suggested that you and Derek share your room for now and his sister can have the guestroom. Derek seems to be allowing you to comfort him and that’s huge. I don’t want to take that away from him or you. But I’m trusting you here, Stiles, and if you two feel that you need to… that comfort isn’t the only… just don’t get carried away. It’ll just make things worse in the long run.”

It’s almost comical how his father can go from being matter-of-fact one minute to tongue-tied the next but Stiles doesn’t feel like laughing. “I appreciate the gesture, I really do and I promise you that if Derek and I want to do more than cuddle I’ll let you know. But I can’t see it being on the cards for a long time.” It never even entered his head before his dad mentioned it, almost as if that part of his and Derek's life is over now – at least for the foreseeable future. “So what happens now?”

“I’m going upstairs to sleep for a couple of hours. Then I’ll pick Laura up from the hospital. I don’t think there’s any danger but there’ll be a patrol car outside our house while she and Derek are here. Then I’ll go into the office and see how the investigation’s going. That didn’t look like an accidental fire to me. And Talia is… was a judge so she must have had as many enemies as any cop.”

 _You’ve_ no _idea_ , Stiles thinks. “Sounds reasonable. Go. I look after Derek. You get some sleep.”

His dad clasps his shoulder, opens his mouth to say something else, then simply nods and drudges up the stairs to his bedroom. When he’s exhausted like this he always looks old and worn, making Stiles all the more worried about his health. He waits until he can hear the bedroom door click shut then takes the drinks into the living room.

Derek hasn’t moved an inch. He shakes his head silently when Stiles offers food and drink but as soon as he sits down and tentatively stretches his hand towards his thigh, Derek makes a slow grab for it and Stiles is glad to be able to offer  _some_ thing. He scoots a little closer and leans his head on Derek's shoulder. For once in his life he can’t think of anything to say, not even something stupid to diffuse the situation. There  _is_  nothing to say and the situation will not diffuse for a long, long time.

 

 

Stiles’s dad picks Laura up later and they also bring the Camaro over from the school. By then Stiles has texted her on Derek's phone to let her know the cover story he told his dad and saves her number to his own phone just in case. There’s no reply but he didn’t expect one.

Laura arrives in a bustle of determination reminiscent of her mother and sadly lacking in Derek. She displaces Stiles from her brother’s side in much the same way as Lydia makes her wishes known, by standing in front of them until he gets the message and stands up. Stiles experiences a pang of resentment because he feels that Derek wants him there but Derek doesn’t object when his sister takes up the vacated space. And Stiles forgives her instantly when she insists that Derek eats the breakfast she bought on the way. Derek complies as if he doesn’t care whether he eats or not. In fact he looks like he doesn’t care whether he lives or dies.

“Peter’s in a coma,” she says calmly. “They don’t think he’ll wake up anytime soon, if ever. I need to arrange long-term care. I have an appointment with our lawyer this afternoon so if you could put us up for a night that would be much appreciated.”

His dad frowns. “I was expecting to put you up a lot longer than that. There’s a lot to consider and you’re most welcome here.”

“Thank you. But we won’t be staying beyond tomorrow.”

“Where are you going to go? There’s an ongoing investigation, you know.”

“But we’re not suspects. So Derek and I will leave Beacon Hills.”

“That’s… I know you’re of age but I doubt that you’re adequately…” His father changes tack mid-sentence, “… but Derek is  _not_. It’ll take time to get you instated as his guardian and until then you’ll be kidnapping him if you take him with you.”

Laura stops chewing on her breakfast burrito and eyes him warily. “Why are you so adamant to keep us here?”

Stiles can practically see the suspicions forming in her mind. She’ll end up thinking his dad’s a hunter or at least working with them and she’s turning hostile already.

However, his father remains reasonable. “To be honest,” he says. “I think it was arson. One of the firemen pointed out the smell and I can’t believe that all those people… that all of your family were taken unawares by an accidental fire. It wasn’t even that late. Surely the adults were still up even if the children might have been asleep. There’s something fishy going on.”

“All the more reason to leave,” Laura says. “Before they get us, too. I have to keep Derek safe now.”

The sheriff frowns. “I can’t see why anybody would come after you two. It’s far more likely that this was aimed at your mother, given her position. I don’t think you’re in any danger.”

 _Wrong,_  Stiles thinks immediately. Hunters didn’t kill the Hales for something they did but for what they are. Only, he can’t tell his dad that or explain where he should look for the arsonists. For Allison’s sake he hopes that her parents weren’t involved. But Kate? Yeah, with hindsight he can clearly see that she targeted Derek and now he also knows the real reason.

He watches Derek's stony face as his father and Laura argue back and forth, neither backing down. Ordinarily his dad should have the upper hand because he has the law on his side. Derek is a minor and his life will be determined by the courts. On the other hand, Stiles can see Laura simply packing up, grabbing Derek and making a run for it. He really doesn’t want to think about that. However, first and foremost he wants Derek and Laura safe. It’s possible that Laura is resourceful enough to disappear without a trace, but it’s equally possible that they’ll run into some more hunters waiting for them and then they’ll have to face them alone. If they stay here, they’ll have his father to protect them if only Laura could bring herself to trust him. Not that he blames her for no longer trusting anyone.

Eventually Laura bows to necessity or at least appears to do so by agreeing to stay on until the legalities are solved. Stiles isn’t so sure if she really means it or is trying to lull them into a false sense of security. His dad seems to be satisfied with her assurances but again Stiles isn’t convinced that his dad believes her either.

When his father eventually leaves the house Stiles follows him to his cruiser. He knows Derek and Laura can still hear him if they want to but he’s hoping they have other things on their minds.

“Can you try to make Derek stay put?” his dad asks as he’s unlocking the car door, raising a hand in greeting at Deputy Stevens, who’s parked across the road. “I don’t want to have to put an APB out on Laura for kidnapping.”

Stiles nods although he’s pretty convinced Laura’s word will count more than his own now that she’s Derek's alpha. “Do you think this could have anything to do with Mrs. Hale getting Ms. Argent fired?”

“You think your  _teacher_  did something so heinous because she got  _fired?_  A bit far-fetched even for you, don’t you think? I mean we have a whole pool of criminals to choose from. Talia was pretty strict on violence.” He takes a seat behind the wheel, inserting the key in the ignition, then looking up at his son. “Unless you know something you haven’t told me…?”

Stiles knows full well that if he starts talking about werewolves his dad will just drive away and who could blame him? It’s been a long night. It’s also not his secret to tell. “You know when Mrs. Hale was here last weekend? I didn’t want to mention it because I didn’t want to get Derek into trouble but Kate… Ms. Argent, she targeted Derek. I mean even before she got fired. From the very first day she was all over him. She even invited him to her apartment.”

“Did he go?”

Stiles nods and watches his father exit the vehicle again, suddenly appearing more alert and somehow intimidating – and twice as broad as he normally looks. He’s certainly knows how to command respect when he wants to. “ _And?_ ”

“She molested him.”

His dad’s blue eyes are steely now. “Enough for an arrest? Something she can’t wiggle out of? Would Derek cooperate at some point?”

“I doubt it. But she kissed him and touched him. And then she got fired.” Derek might have kissed her back but that’s immaterial in the eyes of the law and Stiles is glad about that. At the same time he’s fully aware that it’s nowhere near enough to get a conviction. Especially as Derek won’t want to talk about it. He wouldn’t even want Laura to know. “He’s only told  _me_  that so please don’t let him know I told you.”

His dad’s smile is a little grim but mainly proud. “I know that wasn’t easy for you, son. Thank you. I’ll try and keep you – and even Derek if possible – out of it.” He gets back into his car. “And now… I think I’d like to have a little chat with  _Ms._  Argent.”

 

*** * ***

 

Nothing is real.

Derek has no idea how long it’s been. He could have been standing here for minutes or hours. Everything around him edges indelibly into his mind, tiny unimportant details like one of the firefighters having a tear in the back of his boots and monumental ones like seeing the lifeless body of his father being placed on the ground. He hears every sound and sees every facet of his surroundings – and yet nothing reaches him right now.

It’s like his body is taking a recording for future reference that might not ever become important to him. At the moment his mind is floating like a balloon, buffeted by the wind with no control or purpose. What’s happening around him makes no impact. He can move – and does when they bring Peter out – but it doesn’t seem like his decision or even his body doing it.

At one point he wonders what would happen if he simply shifted and ran off. It’s the full moon so it would be the easiest thing in the world. Would he ever shift back or would the simpler instincts of his wolf prove easier in the long run? But he is not alone. If his mind is a floating balloon then there is a string attached that’s tethering him to the ground so he can’t get lost. It’s a strong hand in his, offering silent support and the promise of solid ground. It’s enough.

He finds himself in the Jeep not quite sure how he got there and then in the hospital where he somehow needs to let go and gets swept away with his eyes fixed on Peter until someone stops him. They talk to him but he’s just looking at the door Peter disappeared behind and sits when someone gently moves him into a seat. He’s not quite sure where he is or how he got here or if he’s really here.

Then there’s someone next to him, someone familiar, comforting in ways he can’t understand right now, and there’s a hand holding his again and he knows he’s not going to disappear because here’s his anchor, linking him not to his humanity right now but to reality.

Much later he can feel his alpha. He looks at her with a flicker of hope because she’s always looked after him but it’s all wrong. She’s the alpha, yes, but new and nowhere near as comforting or soothing as he’s accustomed to. Just one look tells him all he needs to know. There’s no one else left, just Peter and Laura and him. And Stiles. Stiles is still holding his hand, coughing intermittently and looking pale and tired. It is Stiles who tells him they should go to his room. So Derek does. He doesn’t sleep but holds tightly onto Stiles for reassurance.

Later, at the Stilinski home, when Laura tells them that Peter’s in a coma and might not wake up for a long time all he can think is that he’ll heal. No need to worry about Peter of all people. It strikes him that he should feel guilty for thinking that but as he doesn’t feel anything it’s as academic as any other thought that flits through his mind.

He concentrates on Stiles who has moved over to the fireplace because Laura has taken his place and her presence is different, more diffuse, but as long as Stiles is in the room Derek can remain calm. It’s when Stiles follows his father out of the house that he begins to panic. Laura puts a soothing arm around his shoulders.

“We have to get out of here,” she insists quietly. “We’re not safe with the Argents in town. I’ll make preparations and we’ll go tomorrow. I know some people that will give us safe passage until we’re far enough away. We’ll go somewhere where hunters will never find us, some big city where we can blend in. Don’t tell anyone we’re going. Not even Stiles.”

He wonders idly how she expects to get away from Stiles unnoticed because of his sixth sense for getting to the bottom of any secret.

When Stiles returns Laura rounds on him immediately. “Did Derek tell you about us?” She makes it sound as if that would be Stiles’s fault instead of Derek's, as if he somehow forced it out of her brother.

“I guessed most of it,” Stiles says calmly.

“And who did you tell?”

“No one! Do you really think I had anything to do with this when the Argents are in town? Even if they didn’t do it, they’re more likely to tell other hunters than I am. Since I don’t know any other hunters. And wouldn’t tell them if I did.”

“Good. Keep it that way!”

“You should tell my dad. At the moment he’s looking at the right people but in the wrong direction. He can be your best ally if you tell him the truth. He’ll find who did this and he’ll protect you.”

“Yes, he did a stellar job protecting my family.”

“That’s not fair! He has no idea about werewolves or hunters or anything. How could he have known you needed protecting? He’s already warned Mr. Argent off for discharging his gun. He would have done more if he’d known. You’re safer here than you are out there. No one will protect you out there.”

Derek is listening to the quarrel with increasing dismay. These are the two people he needs in his life right now and he can’t bear it that they’re arguing.

“I want to stay here,” he says, silencing both of them.

Immediately all the attention is on him. He can practically feel them softening as if he’s a child that needs to be consoled and pitied.

Laura speaks first. “I know you’re very attached to Stiles and I get it, I really do, but he can’t guarantee our safety and survival is everything right now.”

“You can’t guarantee your safety either,” Stiles says and it could have sounded accusatory but he just sounds tired and worried. “If you leave here now to go into hiding, you’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. There will always be that fear that they might find you. Is that what you want? If you run now, you’ll  _never_  stop running!”

 

 

Derek knows that deep down Laura hasn’t given up on her plan. She keeps packed bags for both of them in her room as well as in the trunk of the car. The tank is always full. She also carries money and whatever emergency papers their lawyer can obtain in a waterproof bag on her body. But she hasn’t mentioned again that they should leave. He likes to think Stiles got through to her but it’s equally possible that she just doesn’t want to have to fight Derek on this and she would never leave without him.

The first two weeks were hell. When he went to sleep for the first time after the fire Derek woke from a seemingly innocuous dream about his mother. She was driving him home from school and chatting about her day. She was talking with a smile about having to make arrangements for the funeral and neither she nor he thought it strange that it was  _her_  funeral she was talking about.

He found himself in bed with Stiles and was hit for the first time by the full realization of what had happened. The grief and despair threatened to overwhelm him and he grabbed for the only comfort he could find. Stiles woke up with a start but hugged him back just as tightly, mumbling soothing words that consisted of a single sentence,  _I'm here,_ over and over again. Derek appreciated that there was no mention of anything being or going to be 'alright' because nothing was.

They all stayed off school for two weeks, even Stiles. Laura was out most of the time, doing paperwork with the lawyer, making funeral arrangements and whatever else she was doing. Apparently she spent a lot of time at the police station and the sheriff probably only allowed her to do that because he knew it would keep her from running away. Laura had certainly warmed to him after the first few days. Still, she kept rejecting Stiles’s  _You should tell my dad,_ which he repeated at least once a day.

There was a massive attendance at the funeral. A lot of the townspeople had known and respected his parents in their professional capacity and also on a personal level. His family had always given generously to charitable projects. The emergency services involved that night were almost all present and furthermore Laura had invited so many other packs to send representatives that Derek was afraid that the Agents would die in a bloodbath. However, they came mainly to pay their respects and get to know the new alpha. On top of all that, there was a strong contingent of cops around the church and the cemetery to keep unwanted visitors out.

There were ten coffins although they found only eight bodies. Marcia and Cora are assumed dead and buried under the collapsed basement. Derek doesn’t ask if they found anything of them at all. There are some details he just doesn’t need to know.

The sheriff insists on Derek leaving the house at least once a day. School counts but on the weekends Stiles either takes him to the shops with him or they go for a walk. It’s on one of their Saturday shopping trips that it happens. He turns into the cereal aisle while Stiles gets the milk when he sees a familiar face. Kate! His heart does a stuttering beat.

She smiles at him as if she’s been expecting him to turn up which may well be true for all he knows. Maybe she spotted him and waited for an opportunity to speak to him alone. Stiles is convinced that Kate is responsible for the fire but Derek is still not sure. That would mean that he completely misjudged her.

“Hi sweetie,” she trills. “Miss me? So sorry about your family.”

He just stares. This isn’t the person he knows, this is some cold, callous individual he doesn't recognize. His whole viewpoint has changed since the fire and he’s now certain that the world is full of evil people but he still can’t quite believe it of anyone he actually knows.

“I would have come to the funeral but the sheriff wouldn’t let me. I don’t think your mom liked me very much. She did get me fired after all.  _Getting fired_ … strange expressing that, don’t you think? More than one way to get fired. I think I got the better deal, don’t you?”

There’s a crash behind him as Stiles comes around the corner and drops the milk. While Derek is still trying to process that yes, she really did say that, Stiles gives a scream of rage.

“YOU EVIL BITCH! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”

At the last moment Derek manages to tackle Stiles around his waist and lift him off the ground as he’s trying to streak past him to throw himself at Kate. Stiles struggles against his iron grip, straining to get to her. More and more customers are beginning to stop and stare now mainly at Stiles, who is air-boxing and kicking his legs, trying to get Derek to release him. “Let me go! Why are you fucking protecting her? Let me go! I wanna hurt her!”

Kate smiles, unimpressed by Stiles’s efforts to get free so he can make good on his promise, and speaks only to Derek: “How very peculiar. And here I thought  _you_  were the attack dog. I’d better go now. I’ve got a couple more jobs to do, you know, tidy up loose ends but I promise I’ll see before I leave town, sweetie.” With that she turns and walks away, her ponytail bouncing with every step.

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

**16**

 

The short drive home is silent. Stiles simply walks out of the supermarket, leaving the shopping and the spilled milk behind. By the time he reaches the Jeep, Derek is there with him. All Stiles can think to do is glower at him across the roof of the car before they get in.

He really doesn’t get it. Okay, so maybe assaulting Kate in front of a dozen or so witnesses wouldn’t be a smart move but it’s not as if it was one of his convoluted yet brilliant plans, it was spontaneous rage. He can’t understand why Derek didn’t feel the same way when he saw her. Does he really still believe she might be innocent? On the other hand, while Stiles may have been able – with a bit of luck – to hit her a few times, Derek could have _killed_ her and then what? He would go to jail.

As they walk into the house his dad comes out of the living room on his way to the kitchen. “Where’s the shopping?” he asks, looking behind them as if he expects it to come floating in by itself. Then he sets the empty mug in his hand on the hallway table and takes a step towards Stiles. “What happened?”

It’s incredibly reassuring to have a parent who can tell his moods without any words. Stiles’s heart shatters like it has so many times since the fire at the thought that Derek will never experience that again. His confused anger dissipates in an instant. “We met Kate.”

“Are you okay?” his father asks, immediately shifting his concern to Derek.

Derek nods and looks over to Laura who’s come down the stairs with her usual disconcerting noiselessness.

“Did she say anything?”

Derek nods again, shuts the front door and walks into the living room. The other three exchange a look and Stiles knows that Derek hates that they all feel he’s fragile somehow but he can’t help being worried. When they follow Derek in, he hasn’t sat down yet but stands by the window obviously waiting for them. In an unnaturally calm voice he recounts what Kate said, of which Stiles only caught the tail end at the time. Thankfully he leaves out Stiles’s subsequent meltdown.

His dad’s lips are tight. Then he says, “I’ve spoken to her a couple of times. She’s a nasty piece of work, very smug and very good at saying things that can be taken as suspect or simply as an incredibly tactless remark. I’m sure she’s involved but I’m having a hard time proving it. For one thing she has an alibi, a one-night stand in a seedy motel, but I could possibly poke holes in that, especially if we assume the guy was also involved. But the main problem is that I cannot find a proper motive. Sure, your mom got her sacked but her job was only ever temporary anyway. She doesn’t need the money because she works for the family business and she was always going to move on after a few weeks anyway. It’s just not enough to do something like that.”

“Don’t you find it weird that she took the job at all?” Stiles asks. “I mean what was the point given those circumstances?”

“Yeah, there’s th…” his dad starts.

Derek interrupts him and that in itself is unusual enough to make them all fall silent and stare at him because ordinarily he has unfailing good manners. But his words would have struck them all dumb anyway. “The Argents are hunters. They hunt werewolves.”

 _Yes!_ is all Stiles can think because _fucking finally_ it’s out in the open. Laura’s opinion is obviously the opposite because she steps forward and says urgently, “Stop! You don’t have my permission. Stop right now!”

The sheriff frowns. “Excuse me… did you just say the Argents hunt… _werewolves_?”

“Derek, no.”

Stiles moves closer to Derek to give him some moral support. He knows Laura is now his alpha but he’s hoping that it’s still so new that it’s not imperative to follow her orders.

“I’m sorry,” Derek tells her and he does sound full of regret but also determined in a resigned kind of way. “You don’t know her. I want her brought to justice and I never want to see her again. She’s evil.” He turns, looks at Stiles’s dad and shifts slowly into his werewolf form.

Laura hisses angrily but turns away from him towards the sheriff evidently considering him a potential threat now. Stiles, however, is struck by the fact that even though his dad is obviously surprised and freaked out and his hand is moving instinctively to his belt where his weapon would be if he were on duty, at no point does he try to place himself between Stiles and Derek. That can only mean that he trusts Derek on a very deep level he might not even be aware of. All he does is squint his eyes and move his head from side to side as if he doubts his eyesight.

Once he’s managed to recover his speech, he looks at Laura and asks, “You’re one, too, eh?”

Laura glares at Derek again for a moment then flashes her eyes with a resigned huff.

For a few long moments nobody says anything, then Stiles’s dad nods. “And of course my son knew all about this and decided not to tell me.” He lifts his hand to silence him when Stiles starts on an explanation. “I think this calls for pizza, don’t you? Will you do the honors? You know what I like and order plenty of Häagen-Dazs for after as well.”

For once Stiles doesn’t argue. It’s a junk food kind of day. They end up sitting around the kitchen table with a large pizza box in front of each of them and ice cream containers later on. His father asks very different questions from the ones he did. Unsurprisingly they concern mostly safety, Stiles’s to start with: how likely are the hunters to target a human, what happens if he accidentally gets bitten?

“How do you bite someone _accidentally_?” Stiles mutters.

But his dad is already onto the safety of their guests. What can harm a werewolf? How do you cure wolfsbane poisoning? How does mountain ash work? And so on and so forth. He’s meticulous and methodical.

Some of the information isn't just news to Stiles but also to Derek. “Dr Deaton’s our emissary? How come I didn’t know that?”

“Because he’s mostly retired and you’re not an alpha, little bro.”

Stiles’s dad rolls his eyes at this as if to say, _of course, the guy I play chess with knows all about this already and can brew magic potions, why the hell not?!_

“So your eyes are red because you’re the alpha and Derek’s are blue because he’s a beta?” Stiles asks because up until now he’s forgotten that Laura’s eyes were red on the night of the fire. He assumed all werewolves had blue ones until he saw hers and then didn't think about it in light of everything else that happened.

“Yes, blue or yellow for betas,” Derek says.

“Male and female?”

“Yes,” Laura says simply, matter-of-factly, at the same time as Derek shakes his head no. “No, Derek.” Her voice is stern now and the siblings exchange a long look. “He’s the _sheriff_.”

Stiles wishes he hadn’t asked because this might well turn into a major problem if Laura’s concern is about the fact that the law could get involved. He should have asked Derek when they’re alone but it didn’t really seem a particularly important or even interesting question, more of a throw-away by-the-by because he always wants to know every little detail.

“I need to tell Stiles,” Derek pleads with his sister but he doesn’t look at anyone when he says. “A werewolf’s eyes turn blue when they’ve killed someone.”

It doesn’t make any sense, like, _at all_. That would mean that Derek… no, that can’t be true. Stiles doesn’t believe it. He’s good with reading people. It’s the only advantage of suffering from anxiety. “You didn’t.” It’s a statement not a question. Then he remembers Derek saying, _There are things you don’t know,_ and suddenly he’s not so sure.

His dad reaches over to put a comforting hand on his forearm as if Stiles is the one in distress here and seems miles ahead of him. “Paige?”

Derek nods and Stiles feels sick. No. Just _no_. This isn’t happening. He’s taken werewolves and hunters and everything in his stride. This? This is too much. Derek is not a murderer. Stiles couldn’t… _love…_ him if he was. Great, what a time to realize how deep his feelings for the guy really go!

“Tell us,” his dad says simply.

For once Stiles isn’t sure if he wants to hear it, Laura is even less happy about spilling this secret than she was about everything else and Derek looks as ill as Stiles feels but when his sister starts to speak he holds up his hand to stop her. It still takes him almost half a minute before he finds his voice, which is rough and shaky, as he tells them what happened last year. Stiles knew that Peter was an asshole but this is beyond the pale. Still, no matter how much he wants to blame Peter for arranging the bite that would have killed her, there’s no getting around the fact that in the end it was Derek who did.

His dad stands up to get himself something stronger to drink. When he sits back down he just looks into his whiskey glass with a pondering expression. “I’m glad I didn’t know this last year. The Krasikevas were so devastated I may have felt obliged to present them with someone to blame. But that wasn’t you, Derek, that was your uncle Peter and whoever the other alpha was and most of all I’d have had a hard time trying to explain it all. The Krasikevas moved away soon after anyway. Christ, this is a mess.” He tips back his drink. “As far as the sheriff in me is concerned you’re off the hook. There’s no grounds for prosecution as far as I can see. What you did was compassionate under the circumstances and having to live with it is possibly more punishment than you deserve already. But I’m telling you now, both of you, if my son gets hurt because of something like that I will hunt you down.”

“I would never…”

“I know.” His dad pours another drink and knocks that back as well.

More from habit than any real concern, Stiles moves the bottle out of his father’s reach. He still doesn’t know what to think. This doesn’t fit with the Derek who thinks the best of everyone until proven otherwise and wouldn’t even hurt the woman who killed his family. Stiles was so convinced that everything was clear cut – werewolves good, hunters bad – but nothing ever is.

But Derek isn’t finished. With his eyes fixed on the table he says, “After the first lesson Kate asked me to stay behind and offered me counseling.”

Laura’s head shoots up to stare at him. “You didn’t tell Mom that! She offered to get Lester to counsel you.”

Derek seems to shrink a little more but after he already confessed killing Paige to the sheriff of all people and in front of Stiles, too, he seems determined to not leave any secret uncovered. He tells them every detail of his meetings with Kate and every conversation. His hands are trembling and Stiles takes the one nearest to him and squeezes it reassuringly. Derek gives him a grateful glance but soon speaks to the table again.

“You told her about our full moon gathering?” Laura whispers.

“She asked me if I was going to the dance and I said no because I didn’t have anyone to go with and my family was visiting for the weekend and I would have more fun with them than at some stupid dance. I never had a chance to tell her that I changed my mind and was going with Stiles.”

Laura gets up so abruptly that her chair falls over. Ignoring it she walks out of the room, her movements uncharacteristically wooden. Stiles has no idea where she goes after that because she can move so quietly she could leave the house and he wouldn’t hear it. Then his father gets up and follows her, either to make sure she’s alright or simply to give Stiles and Derek some space, possibly both. Nobody needs to say out loud what Derek's revelation means.

And Stiles thinks that he’s been wrong all this time: secrets are not there to be uncovered. Secrets can stay wherever the fuck they are because they’re poison when they’re revealed.

When he decides to go to bed three hours later, Laura has still not come out of her room. His father has retired to bed and Derek insists on sleeping on the couch downstairs. Stiles is too weary to argue. If everything was awful before today, somehow it’s even more awful now. He’s had so much faith in the whole truth coming out being a good thing but now Laura probably blames Derek even though Kate could have found out everything he told her by observation. Derek just saved her the trouble. His dad’s most likely struggling with the fact that the law won’t be any use to him in this case. That must be difficult to reconcile with the trust he’s always put in the system.

And Stiles is lying in his bed – alone for the first time in weeks – and tries not to think about the moment when Derek killed Paige. It was a mercy killing to spare her more pain but he doesn’t think he could ever do something like that. He’d be willing to die to save his dad… Derek… Scott… Melissa… even Laura now that he’s gotten to know her better… but _kill_ someone? He doesn’t have it in him. He also thought Derek didn’t have it in him. Maybe there are some fundamental differences between werewolves and humans after all.

His thoughts go round and round in circles. This is just another bleak day in the shitshow that is Derek's life. Having felt guilty for Paige’s death all this time he now blames himself for what Kate did as well. How do you live with that? And most of all: how much courage do you need to admit all that to the only people left in your life? He must have worried about the law catching up with him and yet he confessed to killing someone to the sheriff. He must have been equally worried about Stiles’s reaction because Stiles is certain this is the secret he was referring to when they first got together. And he must have known that his sister – his only relative left apart from his comatose uncle – would be deeply upset by his connection with Kate, maybe even blame him for what happened. And yet he went through with it despite all that because he thought it was necessary to bring Kate to justice.

Stiles knows Derek well enough to be certain that Derek expected to be sleeping on the couch after his confession today, that he probably expects to sleep on the metaphorical couch for the rest of his life. Well, that’s not going to happen. After what feels like hours of tossing and turning Stiles goes downstairs to squeeze into the tiny space next to Derek.

 

*** * ***

 

With his heart thumping in his chest, Derek listens to Stiles making his way down the stairs. He tries to tell himself that Stiles is just getting a glass of water or something so that he won’t be disappointed. It was pretty obvious that Stiles was shaken by his confession earlier. He tried to behave as normal but Derek could tell the difference. He knew this would be a breaking point from the very beginning, which is why he tried to end their relationship then before it really started.

“Scoot over, dude.”

There’s really no room to scoot anywhere but Derek doesn’t care. Stiles could fling himself on top of him and he would simply lie very still so that he can be comfortable. They need to wrap around each other to fit and that’s perfectly alright, too. Derek closes his eyes for the first time tonight and just relishes Stiles being so close, _wanting_ to be close after what he found out about Derek earlier.

“You must hate me,” he says.

“Yeah, that’s the exact reason I came down here, because I hate your guts.”

“Laura does.”

“Laura doesn’t hate you. She’s hurting and she doesn’t understand how you could like Kate. I don’t understand it either but maybe I just didn’t like her because you did. But Kate came here with a purpose. She got the job to target you and she managed to trick you because you don’t have a dishonest bone in your body. That’s why you told us everything today and you didn’t care if my dad arrested you or what we thought as long as it helps getting Kate. And because you don’t really like having secrets.”

“I do care what you think.”

“I know but you took that chance because you wanted to do what’s right.”

It’s true. Despite the potential repercussions of his confessions Derek's kind of relieved that he doesn’t need to keep any secrets any longer. “I knew I had to tell you eventually. It’s bigger than telling you I'm a werewolf. I can’t help what I am but Paige… that’s on me.”

“Yeah, I get it.” There’s a pause in which Stiles gently strokes his arm. “I think it took guts to tell us about that and I’m glad you did…”

“But?” Derek tries not to panic because however much Laura might hate him at the moment and how wary the sheriff might be of him, it’s Stiles’s reaction that he fears the most. Because he can’t bear the idea of losing Stiles as well right now.

“I don’t know how I feel about it. I thought I knew you and now I don’t and I don’t know… I don’t know if I can get past that. I don’t think you did anything wrong per se but still… I don’t think I could do what you did and the thing is that before today I didn’t think you could either.”

His mother once told him that he’s a predator but he doesn’t have to be a killer and that your eyes turning blue is merely good and proper. No matter the reason, if you kill another person there will be a change in you and the blue will remind you of that forever. ‘It’s not a mark of shame or a punishment,’ she said. ‘It simply tells you that your actions have consequences and that you need to be aware of that whether it’s something simple, like a thoughtless remark, or something much, much more impactful.’

He hopes that he's been more mindful of what he says and does since then. He’s kind to most people, he gives people the benefit of the doubt and even when they disappoint him he tries to give them a second chance. Because he was given a second chance when he needed it.

And now he’s hoping for another one. The sheriff was the most generous but then again he may be used to making his own choices according to his own rules. Derek can easily see him letting kids off with a slap on the wrist for minor offences rather than exposing them to a rigorous system that might break them.

Laura might never forgive him. She’s simply lost too much. He’s not even sure if he could handle her forgiveness. It’s unfathomable to him where they could possibly go from here. They can’t just treat each other like they did before because everything changed that night. It might have been possible before he told her about Kate, if he’d just lived with his guilt. Now? Not so much. And he prefers it that way because her trust, her love and her comfort would have turned unbearable for him if she never found out what he did, as if he was receiving it under false pretenses.

The only reason he could pluck up the strength to tell all was Stiles. It was his support and encouragement that allowed Derek to go through with it. If it were just him and Laura, on the run like she wants, he could never confess his guilt to her and it would make his life ten times worse. Maybe he’d deserve that. He certainly doesn’t believe he deserves forgiveness, easy or otherwise, but that doesn’t alter the fact that the people around him, the people he loves, deserve to know the truth about him.

“I know you can never forget what I said,” he whispers. “But I’m still… glad that I told you. I couldn’t be around you any longer without you knowing what I did. It changed me. It made me who I am, for better or worse. I still fucked up… with Kate so it didn’t improve anything really but it’s part of me and you deserve to know who I really am.”

Stiles snuggles closer. “I’m glad you told me, too. I hope I’ll get over it in time. It’s not just about you but also about… who _I am_ if I’m with you. What does it make me if knowing what you did doesn’t make me feel any different about you? It’s so huge that it _should_ make me feel different. And if it does in the end, what does that mean for us?”

It’s a bittersweet relief that Stiles understands so perfectly that killing another human being for whatever reason is a terrible thing. That it will always divide one’s life into _before_ and _after_. Derek thinks it’s kind of poetic justice that the same empathy that makes Stiles recognize this will most likely also mean that Derek will lose him eventually. And that may be all he deserves anyway.

“Time will tell,” Stiles says. It sounds like a pathetic truism but it’s a warning that he needs more time to come to terms with this and that he also might never get there. “I wish I could tell you something different but I just don’t know yet.”

“That’s okay,” Derek says, wondering if they just broke up but too scared to ask.

 

 

The Stilinski house is starting to look like an incident room. Stiles has set up a huge white board in the kitchen and every night the sheriff tells them the latest stage of the investigation over dinner. He doesn’t seem to have any qualms about this as he explains that the _official_ investigation can no longer be the _real_ investigation. He can’t talk to his colleagues about werewolves and hunters without coming over as crazy so he takes only the sane components from the real investigation back to the office.

Kate remains the main suspect since she’s practically admitted it. There are also a number of out-of-towners she’s been seen with recently including the guy who’s providing her alibi. Stiles takes great pleasure in putting up a picture of Adrian Harris – _“I always knew he’s evil! Didn’t I always say he’s evil?”_ – who after a long talk with the sheriff admitted that Kate and he had a casual relationship and that she’d been strangely interested in how to create unusually hot and lasting fires. Stiles keeps wondering aloud if Harris can be charged with being an accessory to murder when Kate’s behind bars.

However, it doesn’t look like Kate will ever end up there as the case drags on and on and keeps meandering. An electrical fault is ruled as the cause of the fire at first which leads to an investigation into the fire inspector which leads to the fire being reexamined all over again. When it’s deemed to be arson the insurance company refuses payment until the case is solved to avoid a possible personal gain for the beneficiaries, Laura and Derek. They have plenty of money from their parents’ assets and also being the heirs to their aunts and uncle but it all adds to their frustration.

Sometimes Derek thinks Laura was right after all. If the fire inspector and other people in town are involved maybe Beacon Hills isn’t safe. They still have a body guard each during the day, burly guys who were deputized just for this purpose. The sheriff thinks the uniform will be an extra deterrent even though they’re in truth just private security working for the police department until further notice.

It’s unclear what Laura thinks of it all. She’s withdrawn and only really comes alive when they’re discussing the case. She’s forgiven Derek but he knows something’s broken between them, or maybe both of them are just broken, period.

And Derek spends way too much time watching Stiles and analyzing every word, every gesture and every look to see if they’re broken, too.

They’ve gone back to sleeping in Stiles’s bed after his dad complained that they shouldn’t make it so hard for him to pretend he doesn’t know they’re dating. They spoon every night, taking turns according to how they feel. It’s what’s holding Derek together at the moment, this physical closeness that he misses most keenly about his pack and that Laura doesn’t seem to be able or willing to provide. It also helps with the nightmares which both, Stiles and Derek, have with exhausting frequency.

Sometimes they make out but never in bed. Like right now after they’ve accidentally on purpose collided on the way to get ready for the night, Derek coming out of the bathroom and Stiles on his way there. A small shoulder bump ends with Derek's back against the wall in the hallway and Stiles pressed against him and kissing him like it’s vitally  important to check the condition of his tonsils with his tongue.

Then Derek's phone rings. Stiles groans and pulls away with a huff and Derek, although equally disappointed, just finds it strange to hear the sound. Nobody calls him anymore. It turns out to be Laura.

_“Can you come to Aunt Cara’s?”_

“What are you doing there?”

 _“I was looking for some paperwork and to see if I need to do the house up for selling it… never mind that now. Can you come here?”_ There’s something strained in her voice.

“Why don’t you come home? It’s after ten.” He feels a sudden worry. “Are you okay?”

 _“Yes. Just come to Aunt Cara’s.”_ And with that she severs the connection.

Derek looks at his phone with a frown. It’s unusual for Laura to be so circumspect. Like their mother she’s a great believer in transparency. Aunt Cara and the twins lived on a farm just outside of town, within easy traveling distance from all the amenities but still secluded enough to go out into the woods at night without drawing attention. Since the fire Derek has avoided familiar places including his burnt-out home, their aunt’s homes and even their family’s favorite pizza place, going out of his way so that he doesn’t have to walk past it. He knows that there will be dozens of ‘firsts’ in his future. He’s not sure if he’s ready to step into the house where his aunt lived with his little cousins for the first time since they died.

“It smells like a trap,” Stiles says for the umpteenth time when they’re sitting in the cruiser.

Since their body guard went off-duty when the sheriff got home after work, he insisted on driving them. Derek sits in the front because he needs to give directions when they get closer to the farm, which leaves Stiles in the cage in the back. It’s dark and they’re getting to the less lighted areas on the outskirts of town. The sheriff is accelerating a little because the roads are completely empty out here.

“It’s not a trap,” Derek says. “There’s nothing anybody could threaten Laura with that would make her lead me into a trap. Anyway Carl said everything’s fine.” Carl is his sister’s bodyguard who’s out there with her and whom the sheriff insisted on calling after Laura’s somewhat cryptic phone call. He turns to the sheriff. “Left here and then just follow the road.”

Stiles grumbles about people not saying outright what they want and thereby causing way too much anxiety and how this is a school night and that they should have taken the Jeep so he wouldn’t be stuck in the back like a felon. Derek smiles without volition because Stiles is just funny when he goes off like this. The sheriff sighs with long-suffering routine.

And then, just around the last bend, about three miles from their destination, the road is suddenly plunged into complete darkness. The sheriff has just time to mutter a, “What the fuck…” and slam on the brakes as the headlights illuminate a tree blocking the road. The car starts to skid on the surface that’s still wet from an earlier shower and there’s the rumbling of the ABS kicking in. It doesn’t help. The car slides sideways as the sheriff tries to avoid the obstacle by pulling the car to the right and it hits the tree driver’s side first, bouncing off a little and eventually hitting another tree by the side of the road head on. The airbags in the front seats deploy and Derek slices his within seconds with his claws.

He’s uninjured but when he looks over the whole driver’s side of the car is dented in reducing the interior space by about a quarter and the sheriff has a large gash on his head where he seems to have broken the side window with his skull. He’s not moving but still breathing and Derek is more concerned about Stiles who’s quietly moaning in the back. “Stiles! Are you okay?”

“I think I broke something. Is my dad okay?”

“He’s unconscious.” Derek pushes out his door, grateful that he has more than human strength because otherwise they would be stuck. Then he simply rips off the back door to free Stiles who crawls out of the car holding his left arm pressed to his chest. It’s unclear if the problem is his arm or his ribs.

“No signal,” Stiles says looking at his phone.

That’s strange. There’s never been a signal problem out here as far as Derek can remember. “Try your dad’s radio.”

A moment later a large spotlight illuminates the car from the direction they came from and a slight figure is silhouetted in front of it some ten yards from them. Derek steps towards the light in front of Stiles, who retreats to slide into the passenger seat Derek just vacated.

Then a booming noise rings out into the night and the impact and pain in his stomach tells him it was a gunshot before his brain has finished analyzing the sound. His knees buckle and a moment later he lands on them heavily on the wet asphalt pressing his hands to his stomach as if he can stop the bleeding or the pain that way.

His body expects to be healing but his brain already knows that he won’t. He can feel an excruciating burning sensation he never felt before. It could conceivably be the acid from his stomach leaking into his abdomen but at the back of his mind there’s a little voice chanting _wolfsbane_ over and over. Everything about this situation is planned and lethal. He wonders why the fuck Stiles is always right even before he hears the mocking voice from the shadowed person in front of him.

“Hi, sweetie, I told you you’d see me before the end, didn't I? And I always keep my promises.”

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

 

**17**

Yep, that pain in his chest when he breathes means he’s broken a rib or several. Stiles remembers the feeling from when he got injured playing lacrosse during his first time on the field. But that’s not important right now. “How’s my dad?” he knows he has no hope of escaping the cage or even kicking out one of the windows, not with his ribs like this, and he frantically needs to get to his dad. So he’s very glad that Derek has superpowers and rips the door right off its hinges.

The car is at a slight angle because one wheel is in a ditch making it twice as hard to climb out. It’s very obvious that they need help. God only knows how badly his dad is injured and none of this is an accident. He looks at his phone and there’s no signal. It could be just a blind spot but his brain is insisting on a jamming device. He thinks of the radio even before Derek mentions it.

When the whole place suddenly lights up there’s no longer any doubt about what this is. His mind is racing. He needs to see to his dad. He needs to get help somehow. He needs to find out if Laura’s okay. He needs to protect Derek. _Help_ , that’s what they need first. In a situation that could potentially get worse always call for reinforcements before you try and make it better. His ribs are screaming as he slips into the passenger seat of the cruiser while Derek steps up to shield him from view with his body.

And then Stiles’s mind goes blank when a shot rings out and Derek is on his knees so abruptly as if his legs have been cut out from under him. Whatever happened to slow motion and all that shit you see on TV all the time? Stiles’s overwhelming instinct is to help him. He can’t lose Derek! But then again Derek will heal and Stiles is the only one who can make sure that help is on its way.

His dad’s head is lolled to one side with his eyes closed and he’s bleeding in a steady trickle. It takes Stiles far too long to find a pulse and it’s a huge relief when it’s quite strong. Outside the car he recognizes Kate’s obnoxious voice. It doesn’t come as a great surprise but it does make him more frantic because it means that Derek is no longer less at risk than he and his dad are but more so.

He picks up the radio and almost cries when it crackles. _Yes!_ He doesn’t bother with calling dispatch and waiting for an answer. Instead he rapidly gives their position and explains their situation, twice. When he finally manages to force himself to pause and listen, he can clearly hear Deputy Stevens’ voice. “This is Bravo Hotel Bravo. Received and understood. We’re on our way. Over.”

“Hurry,” is all Stiles says before he puts down the mike and turns to check on the situation outside. Derek is not far from the car, still kneeling but upright, looking at Kate who is coming slowly closer, her gun at the ready. Now that she’s about halfway between the light and the car it’s possible to see her features and her malicious smile.

“You were supposed to be at the house,” she tells Derek conversationally. “You and your damn sister. You said you wouldn’t be going to the dance. Now I have to hunt you down separately. So messy.”

Stiles has taken the cloth his father uses to wipe the windscreen to stem the blood from his head wound. He moves his dad’s head into a different position so that the bunched-up cloth is between it and the headrest of his seat. It’s nowhere near enough pressure on the wound but it’ll have to do for now. Then he silently apologizes for breaking one of their cardinal rules as he takes his father’s gun, feeling immensely grateful that he thought it necessary to bring it despite being off duty.

He slides out of the car very slowly so that he doesn’t spook Kate and stands to the side of Derek nearer to the trees where it’s a little darker. The weapon is tucked into the back of his waistband and being a revolver it has less of a chance to slip out of position. Still, Stiles is horribly aware of his father telling him that this is the perfect place to keep a gun _if you intend to shoot your ass off_.

Kate has come to the other side of Derek, her gun aimed at his body as he’s kneeling in the full glare of the light now. “Aww, you brought your little bitch,” she croons at him. “How sweet.”

“I have a question, Miss,” Stiles says raising his hand as if they’re in class. “My dad’s in the car and he’s not doing so good. But he’s the sheriff as you know and if anything happens to him his deputies will be upset. So why don’t you leave and let me save him and I’ll persuade him not to pursue you any longer? You know, bygones and all that jazz. Just walk away into the sunset or the headlight thingy over there or whatever. No need to kill anyone.”

“I have no intention of killing you or your dad.” She smiles, not really looking at him but down at Derek who’s holding his stomach with a vague expression on his face. “I have no quarrel with either of you. My battle is with the monsters.”

“They’re _not_ monsters,” Stiles snarls, suddenly more angry than afraid. “And what you’re doing is not battling it’s massacring innocent people from an overwhelming advantage. It’s cowardice pure and simple.” He has lowered his hand and moved it behind his back out of sight. He knows there’s no chance he'll be able draw, aim and shoot quickly enough to prevent her from killing him or Derek or both. He’s not experienced enough and the adrenaline that’s coursing through his blood is making his whole body tremble.

Kate remains unimpressed. “I know you’re desperate to save your boyfriend but I would strongly suggest that you and your dad reconsider your positions. It’s your dad’s job to protect people so he should be the first in line to put these things down. It’s no different than killing a cougar. Only better sport.”

Without haste Stiles pulls out the gun and slowly brings it to the front of his body where he aims it at her with both hands. It puts a painful strain on his ribs and it’s not even remotely steady but with Derek on his knees Kate’s upper body makes an unobstructed target. “Put the gun down!” He wishes his voice wasn’t so shaky.

She looks at him as if he’s a minor distraction. “You won’t shoot me, Stiles. You don’t have the conviction. You see, to kill someone you need to mean it. You talk a good game but you won’t go through with it.”

Stiles can’t help but think that he never fooled her in the first place. She let him bring out the gun, fast or slow, it didn’t really matter to her because she knows he won’t shoot. He doesn’t have it in him. By blinking rapidly he manages to clear his eyes of the tears of frustration. _Just shoot her, you idiot, she’s right there, you can’t miss, she’s vile and she deserves it._ And yet he can’t bring himself to pull the trigger. Despite being a cop or maybe because of it his dad’s strongest message has always been a respect for life. Stiles doesn’t even kill bugs. He likes bugs.

Derek takes that moment to try and get up, snarling at Kate and attempting to shift but he can’t seem to move much and only raises his body halfway. There’s a painful sounding thud when he drops back onto his knees.

Mildly amused she watches his efforts to turn, which don’t amount to much more than his fangs and claws coming out and his eyes changing color. Then she makes a delighted sound. “Blue eyes, eh? I knew you weren’t as innocent as you pretended to be, sweetie. You see, Stiles, in the end they always turn rabid. When you look back on this you’ll thank me for taking care of this problem for you and your dad before it turns on you.”

Stiles wants to shout and argue, wants to defend werewolves in general and Derek in particular, wants to threaten her with his dad, wants to plead with her not to take the guy he loves but deep down he knows that none of that will mean one iota to her. Kate is twisted enough to burn a family alive, including several small children, because she’s convinced that she’s right. Nothing Stiles can do or say will stop her. He knows this like he knows the sun will rise tomorrow morning. Except…

“You should have taken me up on my offer, sweetie,” Kate tells Derek as she casually raises the gun to point it at his head. “It’s such a shame to die without great sex once in your life.”

Later, Stiles will think of this as a watershed moment, of the point where all your values and ideas meet brutal reality and it all comes down to you, no one else, no help, no advice from anyone, where the line in the sand is all that stands between you and how you look at yourself for the rest of your life. His father’s gun feels like a ton in weight and he steadies the barrel, which has dropped dangerously to an angle where it’s aiming more at Derek than Kate, until it’s pointing back at her. And then, having exhausted all avenues he can think of, knowing beyond all doubt that he has only a split second left, he pulls the trigger without any hesitation and with absolute conviction.

It is _loud_. Even Kate shooting Derek wasn’t this loud. The recoil causes him to yell out in pain as the sudden movement aggravates his ribs and takes his breath away. He lowers his arms so the nozzle is pointed downwards at a slight angle away from his feet as he was taught by his dad.

Kate is thrown onto her back on the ground where she stays motionless. Derek turns his head from looking at her to looking at Stiles and his eyes are huge. Stiles knows that he should go over to her and check that she’s incapacitated and take her gun but he can’t seem to move. He doesn’t know if he’s standing there motionless for five seconds or five hours.

“Stiles.” The voice is soft and soothing and he wants to cry with relief because everything’s going to be alright now.

“Give me the gun, son,” his father says gently stepping forward with deliberate slowness.

Stiles can’t pass over the gun and all it represents quickly enough, shoving it in his dad’s direction and never wanting to touch another one in his life. However, his hand doesn’t seem to be able to let go. His dad grabs his wrist to steady it before he slowly prises Stiles’s fingers first off the trigger then each one individually from the grip.

“Are you hurt?”

Stiles shakes his head and steps towards Derek while his father checks on Kate and picks up her weapon where it fell out of her hand. Stiles doesn’t look in her direction so he doesn’t have to see what he has done to her. Instead he kneels in front of Derek and tries to get a look at his injury. “Are you healing? You can heal from this, right?”

“I need a bullet from her gun,” Derek says.

“Why?”

“Wolfsbane.”

Stiles’s dad stops next to Derek and hands him a bullet. He and Stiles watch as Derek empties the powder onto the asphalt, sets it alight and pushes it into the wound on his stomach which is oozing black goo and has meandering black lines running star-shaped in all directions. There’s blue smoke trailing upwards from the entry point after the powder is forced in. It should be fascinating in its otherworldliness and it is, but it’s also the point where Stiles gets up and stumbles over to the side of the road to vomit behind a bush.

When he hears another gunshot he whirls around in a panic to see his dad shooting at something in the dark on the other side of the road. Derek's already getting to his feet.

“What is it?” Stiles asks trying to pinpoint the new danger.

Derek shrugs. “Nothing.”

His dad holsters his gun and comes over to them. “Now listen: we crashed. You managed to get out of the car. Kate was shooting at us but didn’t hit anything. You had a panic attack and didn’t see anything else. I shot Kate. If they test you for GSR you have some on you because I touched you during your panic attack. Are we clear? Say it!”

Stiles obediently parrots what his dad just said, realizing why his dad fired his gun just now.

But his father is already moving on to Derek. “You managed to get out of the car and take the door off because it was already nearly off. Then Kate shot at you and came closer to aim at you point blank. You all thought I was unconscious so I managed take everyone by surprise and shoot her. You were never hit. Are we clear?”

Derek nods already tucking his t-shirt into his jeans to hide the bullet hole. Luckily it’s black so any blood or whatever that goo was won’t show up in the dark.

“No fair,” Stiles mutters. “Why doesn’t _he_ have to repeat what you say?”

His dad huffs a little and grabs Stiles by the side of his neck, his large hand warm and comforting. A moment later he pulls him closer and rests his forehead on his son’s shoulder. His other arm comes out to grab Derek's neck as well and tuck him into the Stilinski hug.

“Everything will be okay if we stick to the story, okay?” he says when he lets go. In the distance there’s the reassuring sound of sirens.

Without warning Laura appears out of the darkness on the other side of the tree blocking the road. It costs her no effort to jump over it. “I heard shots.” She inspects Derek closely. “What happened?”

“Later,” the sheriff says. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course.”

“It’s better if you’re not here when my deputies arrive. We’ll see you as soon as we can.”

“Okay. I want to get back anyway. You’ll come as soon as you can?” When Derek nods, she melts into the night before the headlights of the cruisers reach them.

Stiles has calmed down considerably but he’s still glad when Derek slips his fingers into his hand. In the bustle of most of the Beacon Hills deputies arriving on the scene there’s less of a risk that he might catch a glimpse of Kate’s dead body but he still studiously looks in another direction. He’s trembling all over and close to the panic attack he supposedly had earlier on.

“Just breathe,” Derek says calmly. “Listen to my breathing and try and match it.”

They’re standing at little to the side and Derek exaggerates his inhales and exhales so that Stiles can just pick them out through the general noise. It takes him a while to copy the pattern and by that time his panic is gone. “You’re good at this. Can I keep you?”

“Yes, Stiles, you can keep me for as long as you like.”

“Is forever okay?”

“Perfectly.”

 

*** * ***

 

Over the last few weeks when the pain and the loss and the grief were overwhelming, Derek has sometimes wondered if it wouldn’t have been better if he’d been with his family on the night of the fire. He certainly would give his own life for any of them to be alive and even swap places with Peter. Anything seems easier than living like this forever with no chance of it ever getting better.

At first when he’s hit by the bullet there’s not much room for thought. It’s as if the wolfsbane explodes inside his stomach and is eating its way through his body like a corrosive. The pain is indescribable and he’s frozen in place by shock. The first thought he has as Kate is walking up to him is that everything will be over if she kills him and right now that would be welcome. No more pain of any kind.

But then Stiles gets out of the car – _Don’t do that! Just stay where you are! Protect your dad! Be safe! –_ and Derek's focus shifts from resignation to sheer terror. Not Stiles! He won’t allow Kate to take Stiles after everything she’s taken already. The way she taunts Stiles may well be accurate – didn’t Stiles himself say he doesn’t have it in him to kill – but that only means that she’ll kill Stiles and his dad after she’s finished with Derek. She’ll have to if she wants to get away with this.

His desperate attempt to shift is hampered by the wolfsbane and all he achieves is to confirm Kate’s crazy ideas about werewolves when she sees the color of his eyes. As he sinks back onto the ground, expecting to die within seconds, he suddenly and surprisingly realizes that he’s not ready. He wants to live. He wants to be here for Laura. He wants to prove to Stiles that he’s made a terrible mistake last year but that it doesn’t define all of him. He wants to experience life. He doesn’t want to die not even to escape his grief.

And then Stiles pulls the trigger. Derek sees the look of surprise on Kate’s face and absurdly thinks what a wasted life full of hatred she’s led. And when he turns to look at Stiles he realizes that Stiles did something he didn’t want to, would have decided against if he’d ever imagined a situation like this and didn’t think he could if he tried – and he _did it for Derek_. It should make him feel guilty for dragging Stiles into his shitty life and putting this decision on him but all he feels is grateful to be alive.

After he heals his wound and can finally breathe properly through the subsiding pain, everything happens so fast it’s a bit of a blur. He happily lets the sheriff take over, whose plan protects Stiles and Derek in equal measure. Then Laura turns up and disappears so quickly again that he’s not entirely sure he didn’t dream it. It’s entirely out of character for her to yield to the sheriff’s suggestion to leave but he has little time to think.

Soon there are maybe half a dozen deputies milling around the scene while Stiles and Derek hold hands on the periphery trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. One of the deputies takes the sheriff’s gun into evidence because it’s procedure but no one seems to doubt his version of events in the slightest. Why should they? The idea that Kate wanted to get revenge on the sheriff for pursuing her as a suspect for the fire makes a lot more sense than the truth about werewolves and hunters. It also pretty much confirms her as the culprit.

The paramedics patch the sheriff up on the spot but they want Stiles to ride with them so that his ribs can be x-rayed. Derek helps him up the steps into the ambulance.

“You need to go and see your sister,” Stiles says, gingerly stretching out on the stretcher.

“I know,” Derek replies wishing he could be in two places at once.

“I’ll be okay. Melissa will take care of me when I get there. You go and see what’s up with Laura.”

To Derek's great surprise the sheriff also declines to ride with his son. Instead he slings his arm over Derek's shoulder and tells Stiles, “I’ll be at the hospital as soon as I can, son. I’ll just make sure that the rest of our little family’s okay.”

Stiles’s smile before the ambulance door shuts on him is radiant.

 

 

After the scene has been documented and the tree removed from blocking the road, the sheriff commandeers one of the other cruisers to continue their journey. As they’re travelling the last three miles to Aunt Cara’s house Derek tries to thank him but the sheriff just waves it off. “I never had any trouble understanding why your mother kept you out of the story last year. It’s what parents do. And neither you nor Stiles did anything wrong tonight. You’re the victims and I won’t allow that woman to fuck up the rest of your lives.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Although I may have to change my mind if you don’t start calling me John, son.”

“Thank you… John.”

The sheriff just smiles.

When the farm comes into view with some of the windows lit as if it’s still occupied, Derek needs to swallow. It’s too soon. And yet he’s determined to no longer be useless to everyone around him. Grieving doesn’t mean wanting to die or wallowing in self-pity. It means feeling the pain of loss and allowing it to hurt. And to live in a way that would make the ones you lost proud.

Laura awaits them outside the front door. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Derek assures her. “Why did you want me to come here?”

“I’ve got something to show you.” She leads them into the house that smells overwhelmingly of Aunt Cara and the twins so Derek tries to breathe shallowly. Then she lifts a jacket from the coat hanger in the hall and holds it out to him. “Dad must have left it here on his last visit.”

Derek is speechless as he takes his father’s familiar leather jacket and just hugs it to his body for a few long moments. His dad owned it for years and it is soft and gives off his scent. He closes his eyes and buries his face in it until the sheriff puts a steadying hand on his shoulder and Derek is incredibly grateful that this man is in his life. “Are you sure?” he asks Laura.

She smiles. “I think it would look stupid on me. Try it on.”

He does and it turns out that the sleeves are a little on the long side. It doesn’t matter. He knows he will cherish this forever.

“Looks good on you,” his sister says.

Derek is still looking down his body and wiping over the material while he follows her along the passage into the kitchen without much thought. Carl is standing in the half-open backdoor smoking a cigarette out into the night and greeting them all with a laconic nod and a strange, subdued smile. Having him around as bodyguard has stopped feeling strange a while ago. He’s unobtrusive and likeable.

Finally tearing his attention from his newfound treasure, Derek senses another presence in the room and turns towards the big table in the corner where he used to play games with the twins. Suddenly his breath stops and his eyes fill with tears and his throat convulses painfully. There’s no sound but Cora is flying across the room and into his arms. She looks ragged and filthy and smells of the woods and a prolonged period without a shower, but she’s healthy and here and… _alive_.

“Oh my god,” the sheriff – _John_ – pronounces behind him.

Derek squeezes his little sister and her arms are vise-like around his neck as if she’ll never let go. He’s completely okay with that because he’s not sure if he’ll be able to either. Laura steps closer and puts her arms around both of them and weeps for the first time since the fire. Derek joins in unashamedly.

Later when it’s dawn and he sits wide awake in Stiles’s hospital room he thinks about how things are always changing and how even what appears to be written in stone can shatter overnight. He lost everything he knew in the fire, his family, his previous life, his believe that he can shape his own future, his feeling of home and safety and belonging. But if there is such a thing as fate then tonight was another one to change it all.

He looks at Cora who is curled up on Laura’s lap in the only comfortable chair in the room, both of them asleep. The sheriff has gone for a coffee with Mrs. McCall. Derek is holding Stiles’s hand because it seems to keep him a little calmer during his restless sleep. Everyone’s going to have nightmares for months.

Cora hasn’t spoken yet but somehow she managed to get away that night and it’s a miracle he will never stop being grateful for. He survived tonight because Stiles decided that he’s more important than his principles. He’s survived the last few weeks because Stiles and his father were there constantly and Laura remained strong through it all. Getting Cora back may just be down to luck but it’s also a pretty obvious sign to him.

As if on cue Stiles squeezes his hand. Derek looks up to see him smile faintly and sleepily. He smiles back and leans forward to rest his head tiredly on Stiles’s forearm.

Hope. For the first time since that awful night when he lost his family, there’s  _hope_ – for him, for his family, for him and Stiles. Together they’ll be alright.

 

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

**Epilogue**

In the years since she died not a day has gone by when Noah John Stilinski didn’t miss his wife. At first there were some awful days, weeks, months even, that he’d rather forget. He nowadays thinks he was like a functioning alcoholic. Eventually he realized that it wasn’t his child’s job to look after him but the other way around and that Claudia would be rightfully disappointed in him. So he limited his drinking to no more than two drinks on any occasion and no more than two occasions a week.

Nevertheless things remained difficult for a long time. There were Stiles’s nightmares and panic attacks, his ADHD and psychiatric visits, his acting out and lack of focus, while John struggled with melancholy and feelings of inadequacy. Claudia had always been the more natural parent. But in truth it was the happy days, when he was bursting with pride over his son, that were the hardest because it was those feelings he longed to share the most.

Everything is different now. For starters, Melissa McCall is sitting next to him not in her role as the _let’s-be-long-suffering-single-parents-together_ support they were to each other for so long but as so much more. It’s one of the strange ironies of life that they got together not when their two sons were unsubtly pushing for it so they could be brothers, but after their friendship had begun to crumble. The beginning of John and Melissa’s relationship a few months ago has also brought Scott and Stiles closer together again, which makes both of them much happier.

“Derek Hale.”

There’s the obligatory applause as Derek walks across the stage with his natural grace. He’s grown a couple of inches in the last two years and put on some more muscle without much effort. Even in the ridiculous maroon robe and hat he stands out with his good looks and the happy smile he has. John claps proudly as his boy takes his diploma and walks on. Laura who’s sitting in the next seat over from John stealthily wipes her eyes and he reaches across and pats her shoulder. She playfully bares her teeth at him because she hates it when he catches her being sentimental.

Naturally the applause for Derek is tinged with some curious murmurs. In Beacon Hills the Hale kids will always be talked about for the tragedy that befell their family. They’ve learned to cope with it each in their own way and in time the memory will fade for all but the people who know them personally. It’s already less pronounced than it was two years ago.

Sitting between her sister and John, Cora waves at her brother on stage and he waves back at her. Without their little sister all their lives would be very different. After the fire John suddenly found himself responsible for two more teenagers but as much as he tried to support them and keep them safe they didn’t grow into a family until Cora was found.

After a few weeks of therapy Cora finally started to talk again and after a few months she revealed what happened. She’d been outside with her mother for some sort of ceremony that exposed her to the full moon when the hunters arrived. Talia told her to run and hide while she returned to the house to defend her family. Cora did what she was told and for weeks was too scared to come forward. Instead she lived on her aunt’s farm, not daring to show herself until one day Laura came out there to see to the estate.

As much as Cora takes strength from her alpha, she’s had a deep affection for John from the moment she moved into the Stilinski house. It was her seeking out his company constantly that brought them all together. Laura is a good alpha. She’s strong, reliable, smart and works hard but she’s also the first to admit that she hasn’t a maternal bone in her body.

So John became a parent again by default and he loves it. The plan was always to have a big family which was sadly curtailed by Claudia’s illness and he’s too old now to contemplate starting from scratch but when the additions to his and Stiles’s small unit fell into his lap he took them on with gusto, not just Cora but Laura and Derek as well.

The three siblings moved into their own house after about six months. It was the first summer and Laura wanted to be independent so her brother and sister went with her. It was good for everyone. After graduation Laura applied as a deputy, which would smack too much of favoritism if she kept living with her boss. Derek no longer shared a room with Stiles, while both were underage which precluded any legal problems and Cora got her own bedroom. But most nights they all end up at the Stilinskis anyway since their houses back onto each other making visiting as easy as crossing your own backyard.

John takes Melissa’s hand and squeezes it when Scott walks across the stage. She smiles proudly at her son and he’s happy for her. Since Scott and Stiles became friends John has always taken on a paternal role for Scott as Melissa has mothered Stiles when he needed it. John kind of considered Scott a second son but the death of Kate Argent brought unexpected strife.

Soon after the shooting Allison’s grandfather arrived in town and suddenly the question was no longer why his daughter turned out the way she did but how Chris managed to keep some sort of perspective with a father like that. For three months Gerard Argent managed to make himself a persistent nuisance at the police station issuing aspersions and threats against John. He also incited Allison into a rage at not only John but by extension Stiles and Scott. He hounded Derek and Laura but when he approached Cora one day John read him the riot act.

Faced with an ultimatum to choose between Allison and Stiles, Scott chose her. Luckily by that time Scott was no longer the most important person in Stiles’s life – that was Derek – but Stiles took it hard. However, it taught him to be even more careful with the secrets he’s keeping. Neither Scott nor the Argents know that it wasn’t John who shot Kate, which was just as well since it took Stiles a long time full of nightmares and flashbacks until he was even remotely starting to work through it. Outside accusations would only have made it more difficult. Without Derek there every step of the way the long-term effects would no doubt have been much worse. They’re good for each other. Derek calms Stiles down when he gets manic and panicky and Stiles pulls Derek out of his morose phases.

And in any case, the Argents moved away after the term ended, leaving Scott with a broken heart and a broken friendship. For their parents’ sake Stiles and Scott are mending their relationship slowly and carefully but the cracks will remain for a while longer, maybe forever.

John is hopeful that at some point in the future, if things keep going as well as they are at the moment, Melissa will handle sharing his many, many secrets admirably. As he watches Scott take a deep puff from his inhaler when he leaves the stage, he’s already wondering if Melissa will ask Laura about the bite for him. Be that as it may, the important thing is that telling her about werewolves, hunters and other things that go bump in the night? Yeah, John has no doubt Melissa will take it in her stride.

He leans closer and whispers, “You brought him up well.”

Melissa nods without taking her eyes of her son. Derek is standing next to Scott now and speaking quietly with him, making sure his asthma isn’t too serious. John knows that Scott is kind-hearted even if his first love made him lose his way a little, but it’s Derek that most people could learn from. To be this kind to everyone after what he’s been through is a testament to his character. Derek keeps saying that he admires Stiles for being forthright and determined but they all know that Derek is the one everyone wishes they could emulate.

“Pops, there’s Stiles,” Cora whispers and pulls on John’s sleeve as if he would otherwise miss his son’s graduation walk. Every time she calls him that – distinctly different from daddy, which is what she called her father, but still indicating the role she’s allowing him in her life – John feels an overwhelming love and pride.

He half-expects Stiles to stumble across the stage, possibly on purpose as he is wont to do because it paradoxically makes him feel better than doing it by accident. However, despite the goofy grin on his face, Stiles manages to walk without mishap and even with a certain amount of unanticipated poise, his gaze firmly on Derek, who’s waiting for him on the other side of the stage. John’s eyes fill with tears of pure joy. For the first time he becomes aware that he has people – _family_ – to share this with now, who love Stiles just as much as he does. Claudia would be incredibly happy to know that.

 _Yes,_ he thinks, _we did good_.

 

 

Fin.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as High School AUs go, this is probably more or less a fail although it starts and ends in High School. The story kind of got away from me a bit.  
> I also had to split a couple of chapters during editing and I know how annoying it is when the chapter count keeps changing.  
> And when I said in the beginning that there would be ‘slowish’ updates, this isn't what I meant. RL threw me a few curveballs that meant I didn’t have as much time as anticipated. So a big thank you to all of you who stuck with this until the end and left generous kudos and wonderful comments (which sadly I also didn’t have time to answer).  
> I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed it, too. Thank you for reading.


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